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THE EVIL EYE 
THANATOLOGY 

AND OTHER ESSAYS 
ROSWELL PARK, M. D., LL,D. (Yale) 




RICHARD G. BADGER 

THE GORHAM PRESS 
BOSTON 



Copyright, 19x2, by Richard G. Badger 
All Rights Reserved 



ACE 

.?3 



The Gorham Press. Boston, U. s A. 



(gCI,A332231 



To 

Sir William Osier, M. D., LL.D., 
F. R. C. P., etc. 

Regius Professor of Medicine, 
Oxford University. 

Ideal Scholar and Friend. 



PREFACE 

Responsibility for the following collection of es- 
says and addresses (occasional papers) rests perhaps 
not more with their writer, who was not unwilling 
to see them presented in a single volume, than with 
those of his friends who were complimentary enough 
to urge their assemblage and publication in this shape. 
They partake of the character of studies in that bor- 
der-land of anthropology, biology, philology and 
history which surrounds the immediate domain of 
medical and general science. This ever offers- a 
standing invitation and an enduring fascination for 
those who will but raise their eyes from the fertile and 
arable soil in which they concentrate their most ar- 
duous labors. Too close confinement in this field 
may result in greater commercial yield, but the fra- 
grance of the clover detracts not at all from the value 
of the hay, nor do borderland studies result other- 
wise than In enlargement of the boundaries of one's 
storm center of work. 

No strictly technical nor professional papers have 
been reprinted herein, while several of those which 
appear do so for the first time. 

Buffalo, December, 191 2. 



CONTENTS 

Chapter Page 

I The Evil Eye , 9 

II Thanatology .,. .,„, ... 32 

III Serpent- Myths and Serpent Worship. . . 49 

IV latro-Theurgic Symbolism ,j, 70 

V The Relation of the Grecian Mysteries to 

the Foundation of Christianity 92 

VI The Knights Hospitallar of St. John of 

Jerusalem 132 

VII Giordano Bruno 164 

VIII Student Life in the Middle Ages 199 

IX A Study of Medical Words, Deeds and 

Men .; ,_. 233 

X The Career of the Army Surgeon 265 

XI The Evolution of the Surgeon from the 

Barber 296 

XII The Story of the Discovery of the Cir- 
culation 314 

XIII History of Anaesthesia and the Introduc- 
tion of Anaesthetics in Surgery 351 



THE EVIL EYE 

BELIEF in magic has been called by Tylor, 
one of the greatest authorities on the occult 
sciences, "one of the most pernicious delu- 
sions that ever vexed mankind." It has 
been at all times among credulous and superstitious 
people made the tool of envy, which Bacon well des- 
cribed as the vilest and most depraved of all feelings. 
Bacon, moreover, singled out love and envy as the 
only two affections which have been noted to fasci- 
nate, or bewitch, since they both have "vehement 
wishes, frame themselves readily into imaginations 
and suggestions and come easily into the eye." He 
also noted the fact that in the Scriptures envy was 
called the Evil Eye. 

It is to this interesting subject in anthropological 
and folk-lore study, namely, the Evil Eye, that I wish 
to invite your attention for a time. Belief in it is, 
of course, inseparable from credence in a personal 
devil or some personal evil and malign influence, but 
in modern times and among people who are supposed 
to be civilized has been regarded ordinarily as an 
attribute of the devil. Consideration of the subject 
is inseparable, too, from a study of the expressions 



A Presidential Address before the Buffalo Society of Natural 
Sciences. 



lo THE EVIL EYE 

"to fascinate'' and "to bewitch." Indeed this word 
"fascination" has a peculiar etymological interest. It 
seems to be a Latin form of the older Greek verb 
^^haskanein," or else to be descended from a common 
root. No matter what its modern signification, origin- 
ally it meant to bewitch or to subject to an evil influ- 
ence, particularly by means of eyes or tongue or by 
casting of spells. Later it came to mean the influenc- 
ing of the imagination, reason or will in an uncontrol- 
lable manner, and now, as generally used, means to 
captivate or to allure. Its use in our language is of it- 
self an indication of the superstition so generally prev- 
alent centuries ago. It is, however, rather a polite 
term for which we have the more vulgar equivalent 
"to bewitch," used in a signification much more like 
the original meaning. 

Belief in an evil power constantly at work has ex- 
isted from absolutely prehistoric times. It has been 
more or less tacitly adopted and sanctioned by vari- 
ous creeds or religious beliefs, particularly so by the 
church of Rome, by mediaeval writers and by writers 
on occult science. Even now it exists not only 
among savage nations but everywhere among com- 
mon people. We to-day may call it superstition, but 
there was a time when it held enormous sway over 
mankind, and exercised a tremendous influence. In 
its present form it consists often of a belief that cer- 
tain individuals possess a blighting power, and the 
expression in England to "overlook" is not only very 
common, but an easily recognizable persistence of the 



THE EVIL EYE ii 

old notion. Evidently St. Paul shared this prevalent 
belief when he rebuked the foolish Galatians, saying 
as In our common translation, "Who hath bewitched 
you that ye should not obey the truth?'* In the Vul- 
gate the word translated "bewitch" is ''fascinare/^ 
exactly the same word as used by Virgil, and refer- 
ring to the influence of the evil eye. Cicero himself 
discussed the word "fascination," and he explained 
the Latin verb invidere and noun invidia as meaning 
to look closely at; whence comes our word envy, or 
evil eye. 

All the ancients believed that from the eyes of 
envious or angry people there was projected some 
malign influence which could infect the air and 
penetrate and corrupt both living creatures and inani- 
mate objects. Woyciki, in his Polish Folk-lore, re- 
lates the story of a most unhappy Slav, who though 
possessed of a most loving heart realized that he was 
afflicted with the evil eye, and at last blinded himself 
In order that he might not cast a spell over his chil- 
dren. Even to-day, among the Scotch Highlanders, 
if a stranger look too admiringly at a cow the peo- 
ple believe that she will waste away of the evil eye, 
and they give him of her milk to drink in order to 
break the spell. Plutarch was sure that certain men's 
eyes were destructive to infants and young animals, 
and he believed that the Thebans could thus destroy 
not only the young but strong men. The classical 
writers are so full of allusions to this subject that It 
is easy to see where people during the Middle Ages 



12 THE EVIL EYE 

got their prevalent belief in witches. Thus, Pliny 
said that those possessed of the evil eye would not 
sink in water, even if weighed down with clothes; 
hence the mediaeval ordeal by water; — ^which had, 
however, its inconveniences for the innocent, for if the 
reputed witch sank he evidently was not guilty, but if 
he floated he was counted guilty and then burned. 

Not only was this effect supposed to be produced 
by the fascinating eye, but even by the voice, which, 
some asserted, could blast trees, kill children and des- 
troy animals. In Pliny's time special laws were en- 
acted against injury to crops by incantation or fascina- 
tion ; but the Romans went even farther than this, and 
believed that their gods were envious of each other 
and cast their evil eyes upon the less powerful of 
their own circle; hence the caduceus which Mercury 
always carried as a protection. 

To be the reputed possessor of an evil eye was an 
exceeding great misfortune. Solomon lent himself to 
the belief when he enjoined, "Eat thou not the bread 
of him that hath an evil eye." (Prov. 23:6). The 
most inconvenient country in which to have this repu- 
tation to-day is Italy, and especially in Naples. The 
Italians apply the term jettatore to the individual thus 
suspected, and to raise the cry of ^* Jettatore** in a 
Neapolitan crowd even to-day is to cause a speedy 
stampede. For the Italians the worst of all is the 
^'jettatore di bambini/* or the fascinator of infants. 
Elworthy relates the case of a gentleman who on three 
occasions acted in Naples in the capacity of sponsor; 



THE EVIL EYE 13 

singularly all three children died, whereupon he at 
once got the reputation of having the ^^malocchio*^ to 
such an extent that mothers would take all sorts of 
precautions to keep their children out of his sight. The 
great Bacon lent himself also to the belief to such an 
extent as to advise the carrying on one's person of 
certain articles, such as rue, or a wolf's tail or even 
an onion, by which the evil influence was supposed to 
be averted. 

A most interesting work was written by Valletta 
and published in Naples in 1787. It was practically 
a treatise upon fascination and the jettatore. Valletta 
himself was a profound believer in all this sort of 
thing, and finished up his work by offering rewards 
for answers to certain questions, among which were 
the following : — "Which jettatore is most powerful, 
he who has or he who has not a wig ? Whether monks 
are more powerful than others? To what distance 
does the influence of the jettatore extend, and wheth- 
er it operates more to the side, front or back ? What 
words in general ought one to repeat to escape the 
evil eye?" 

In ancient times it was believed that women had 
greater power of fascination then men, a belief to 
which our sex still hold at the present day, although 
in modern times the evil eye proper is supposed to be 
possessed by men rather than by women ; monks espe- 
cially, ever since the establishment of religious or- 
ders, being considered to possess this fatal influence. 
Curiously enough, the late Pope, Pius IX, was sup- 



14 THE EVIL EYE 

posed to be a most pronounced jettatore, and the most 
devout Catholics would point two fingers at him even 
while receiving his blessing. Let me quote Elworthy 
in this connection: — "Ask a Roman about the late 
Pope's evil eye, and he will answer, 'They say so, and 
it really seems to be true. If he had not the jettatura 
it is very odd that everything he blessed made fiasco. 
We did very well in the campaign against the Austri- 
ans in '48 ; we were winning battle after battle and all 
was gayety and hope, when suddenly he blessed the 
cause and everything went to the bad at once. Nothing 
succeeds with anybody or anything when he wishes 
well to them. When he went to S. Agnese to hold 
a great festival down went the floor and the people 
were all smashed together. Then he visited the 
Column to the Madonna in the Piazza di Spagna and 
blessed it and the workmen. Of course one fell from 
the scaffold the same day and killed himself. He ar- 
ranged to meet the King of Naples at Porto 
d'Anzio, when up came a violent gale and storm that 
lasted a week. Another arrangement was made and 
then came the fracas about the ex-Queen of Spain.' " 
The superstition of the evil eye and of witchcraft 
goes everywhere with the belief in the power of trans- 
formation, which at certain periods of history has 
been so prevalent as to account for many of the stor- 
ies of ancient mythology, and will account even for 
such nursery stories as that of Little Red Riding 
Hood, as well as for the old-world belief in the were- 
wolf. Indeed, a common expression of to-day re- 



THE EVIL EYE 15 

minds one of this old belief, since it is a common say- 
ing to be ready to "jump out of one's skin for joy.'* 
This belief in transformation has begotten an ever- 
present dread of ill omens which is even now one of 
the most prevalent of superstitions. In Somerset, to 
see a hare cross the path in front of one is a sign of 
death. In India they fear to name any sacred or 
dreaded animal. The black cat is everywhere an ob- 
ject of aversion, and in some parts of England to 
meet a person who squints is equal to meeting one pos- 
sessing the evil eye. Surely I do not need to remind 
this audience of the fear which many people have of 
taking any important action on Friday. This fear 
goes so far in some instances as to lead people to 
deprecate over-praise or apologize for a too positive 
statement. Your courteous Turk will not take a com- 
pliment without "Mashallah;" the Italians will not 
receive one without "Grazio a Dio;" while the Irish- 
man almost always says "Glory be to God," and the 
English peasant "Lord be wi' us;" the idea in every 
instance being to avert the danger of fascination by 
these acknowledgments of a higher power. 

In England during the horrible times when the 
Black Death raged it was supposed that the disease 
was communicated by a glance from the distorted 
eyes of a sick man. In 1603 Delrio, a Jesuit, pub- 
lished a large six-volume folio work entitled "A Dis- 
quisition on Magic," in which he takes it for granted 
that the calamities of mortals are the work of evil 
spirits. He says, "Fascination is a power derived 



L 



1 6 THE EVIL EYE 

by contact with the devil, who, when the so-called 
fascinator looks at another with evil intent, or praises 
by means known to himself, infects with evil the per- 
son at whom he looks." Those familiar with the his- 
tory of so-called animal magnetism, mesmerism or 
hypnotism, will see a close connection between these 
beliefs and the practice of this peculiar form of in- 
fluence. Mesmerism, in fact, as ordinarily practiced, 
was more or less dependent upon the influence of 
touch, or actual contact, whose importance has al- 
ways been by the credulous rated high. In fact, it 
will be remembered that many of the miracles of the 
New Testament were performed by the aid of touch, 
and in the Old Testament it is recorded how disap- 
pointed Naaman was when he went to be cured of his 
leprosy in that the prophet did not touch him. The 
influence of the royal touch for the cure of scrofula, 
known for centuries as the King's Evil, will also not 
be forgotten. In fact, our word to **bless" signifies 
to touch by making the sign of the cross on the dis- 
eased part, as, for instance, in the West of England, 
where goitre is rather common, it is believed that the 
best cure is that the swelling should be touched by 
the hand of a corpse of the opposite sex. 

The more we deal with the superstitions now un- 
der consideration the more evident it becomes that the 
principal thought among the simpler peoples, or even 
among some of the religious sects of to-day, has been 
the propitiation of angry deities, or of destructive 
influences, rather than the worship and exaltation of 



THE EVIL EYE 17 

beneficent attributes. As Elworthy says, "We find 
that fear and dread have in all human history been 
more potent factors in men's conduct than hope and 
gratitude or love." Take for example the propitiatory 
sacrifices of Abel and Cain, or the sacrifice which 
Abraham proposed to make of his own son, or the 
very words which have crept into our language such 
as atonement, etc. With this personification of an 
evil power or attribute in nature came also belief in 
transformation, or metamorphosis, of which the 
Greek and Roman mythology is full. How many of 
the Christian symbols of to-day, nearly all of which 
are of pagan origin, convey to the initiated instances 
of this belief, can hardly be mentioned in this place. 
Suffice it to say that their number is very great. But 
I find too many temptations to wander from my sub- 
ject, which is essentially the evil eye. 

In mediaeval symbolism, as in ancient, the intent 
often was to represent either on some amulet, charm 
or picture a figure of the thing against which it was 
most desired that a protective influence should be ex- 
ercised, hence the general prevalence of the eye in 
some pictorial representation. The ancient Egyp- 
tians, as well as the Etruscans, used to paint a huge 
eye on the bows of their vessels, which was supposed 
to be a charm against the evil eye. Even to-day in 
the Orient I have seen Greek boats with eyes painted 
on either side of their prows. The eye was a com- 
mon adornment of Egyptian pottery, usually In com- 
bination with various other pictures, but as a symbol 



1 8 THE EVIL EYE 

It seems during the past century or two to have passed 
out of common employ, except perhaps In Malta, and 
among the Free-masons, who simply are perpetuating 
Its use. Nevertheless, wax or silver eyes are seen 
hung up In some foreign churches. A curious feature 
of these superstitions has been this, that any feature 
of indecency or obscenity when attaching to these 
symbols, amulets, etc., has been supposed to make 
them much more potent. This probably was because 
anything strange or unusual was more likely to at- 
tract the eye, and therefore divert Its Influence from 
the Individual to the Inanimate object, hence the prev- 
alence of phallic emblems In connection with these 
fancied protections. Many objects of this kind can 
be to-day picked up In the jewelry stores of Rome and 
of Naples. 

Another of the most efficacious of these amulets 
takes the general form of a hideous mask, often called 
the Gorgoneion. In all probability this was largely 
for the reason given above — that It was most likely 
to attract attention. Symbols of this kind are In very 
general use among people who know nothing of the 
reason therefore. Thus, we see them on seals, coins, 
etc. The gargoyles of mediaeval architecture are 
frequently given this fantastic appearance and for 
this same purpose. 

In Roman times the dolphin was a favorite device 
for a potent charm against the evil eye, and was pic- 
tured on many a soldier's shield. Ulysses adopted it 
as his especial choice, both on his signet and his shield, 



THE EVIL EYE 19 

perhaps because it was supposed to have been through 
the agency of the dolphin that Telemachus was saved 
from drowning. 

To us in the medical profession it is of no little 
interest that in Rome, according to Varro, there stood 
three temples on the Esquiline dedicated to the god- 
dess of Fever and one to Mephitis. Tacitus relates 
that a temple to Mephitis was the only building left 
standing after the destruction of Cremona, where 
there was also an altar dedicated to the Evil Eye. We 
know, also, that in the very centre of the Forum there 
stood an altar to Cloacina, the Goddess of Typhoid. 
What complete sway this goddess has held from an- 
cient times to the present I need scarcely tell you. 
'When Rome, after the fall of the empire, relapsed 
into its most insanitary condition this old worship 
reappeared in another shape, and a chapel arose 
near the Vatican to the Madonna delta Fehre, the 
most popular in Rome in times of sickness or epi- 
demic." This simply shows a transfer of ideas, the 
attributes of Diana being conveyed over to her Chris- 
tian successor, the virgin, whose cult became equally 
supreme. 

The principal symbol of this cult was the horned 
moon or crescent, and, in consequence, horns in one 
form or another became the most common of objects 
as amulets against the Evil Eye. So comprehensive 
and persistent is this belief in Naples that, in the ab- 
sence of a horn in some shape, the mere utterance of 
the name corno was supposed to J)e an effectual pro- 



20 THE EVIL EYE 

tectlon. Even more than this, the name Un Corno 
became applicable to any and every charm or amulet 
against the Evil Eye. We may find many references 
to the Horn in Scripture, where it served both as 
an emblem of dignity and as an amulet. Most curi- 
ous it is that the phylactery with which the Pharisees 
adorned their garments, and which called forth the 
most scathing denunciation by the Master, was un- 
doubtedly an emblem of a horn, and worn as an amu- 
let against the Evil Eye. At the beginning of the 
Christian era it had become fashionable to wear 
these, and how they were enlarged and made not only 
badges of sanctity but marks of worldly honor, we 
may read in the New Testament. 

The horn has been an important feature of Chris- 
tian symbolism, as of pagan, and we constantly sec 
the ram's horn, which was the successor of the bull's 
horn, made such from economical reasons, all over 
the ruins of ancient Rome. The married women of 
Lebanon wear silver horns upon their heads to dis- 
tinguish them from the single women. The Jew- 
esses of Northern Africa wear them as a part of their 
regular costume, and even to-day curious spiral orna- 
ments are worn on either side of the head by the 
Dutch women. In Naples horns in all shapes are ex- 
ceedingly common upon the trappings of the cab 
horses. Indeed the heavy trappings and harness of 
these overloaded animals are usually protected with 
a perfect battery of potent charms, so that any evil 
glance must be fully extinguished before it can light 



THE EVIL EYE 21 

upon the animal itself. Thus, we may frequently see 
upon the backs of these animals two little brazen 
flags, said to be typical of the flaming sword which 
turned every way, and which are supposed to be an 
unfailing attraction to the eye. The high pommel 
ends usually in a piece of the inevitable wolf's skin, 
and many colored ribbons or worsteds are wound 
about portions of the harness in such a way as com- 
pletely to protect all that it encloses. 

But the most numerous of all these emblems is a 
hand in various positions or gestures. Probably every 
other cab horse in Naples carries the hand about him 
in some form. In Rome these things are not seen so 
much on horses' backs, although wolf skins, horns 
and crescents are common enough, but we see large 
numbers of silver rings for human fingers, to each of 
which a little pendant horn is attached. These may 
be seen in the shop windows strung upon rods and 
plainly marked Annelli contra la Jettatura. Those 
who have seen Naples thoroughly have noted how 
cows' horns, often painted blue, are fixed against the 
walls, especially at an angle, about the height of the 
first floor. But one of the most remarkable amulets 
which I have ever seen hangs outside one of the en- 
tries to the Cathedral in Seville, where over a door 
is hung by a chain the tusk of an elephant, and furth- 
er out, over the same doorway, swung by another 
chain, an enormous crocodile, sent as a present or 
charm of special power to Alfonso, In 1260, by the 
Sultan of Egypt. These two strange charms hang 



12 THE EVIL EYE 

over the doorway of a Christian church of to-day, in- 
dicating the acceptance by a Christian people of a 
Moslem emblem and amulet. 

Again, in Rome it is very common to see a small 
cow's horn on the framework of the Roman wine 
carts or dangling beneath the axle. Much more com- 
mon and better known among the Anglo-Saxon peo- 
ples is the horse-shoe emblem, which with us has lost 
all of its original signification, as an emblem of fe- 
cundity, and has become a charm against evil. It is 
hung up over doorways, is nailed up in houses, it 
guards stable doors and protects fields against malign 
influences. Even in the Paris Exhibition of 1889, 
where there was a representation of a street from old 
Cairo, there hung over several of the doors a croco- 
dile with a horse-shoe on his snout. 

So far I have said very little about the positions 
of the hand and certain gestures by which it is intend- 
ed to ward ofli the evil eye. The Mohammedans, like 
the Neapolitans, are profound believers in the ef- 
ficacy of manual signs; thus outside of many a door 
in Tangier I have seen the imprint of a hand made 
by placing the outstretched hand upon some sticky 
black or colored material, which was then transferred 
as by a type or die to the doorway of the dwelling, 
where in the likeness of the outstretched manus it 
serves to guard the dwellers within. This is to me 
one of the most curious things to be observed in 
Mohammedan countries. A relic of the same belief 
I have seen also over the great gate of the Alhambra, 



THE EVIL EYE 23 

In the Tower of Justice, where, In spite of the very 
strict Moslem custom and belief against representa- 
tion of any living object, over the keystone of the 
outer Moorish arch is carved an outstretched upright 
hand, a powerful protection against evil. It is this 
position of the hand, by the way, which has been ob- 
served in all countries in the administration of the 
judicial oath. Moreover, the hand in this position is 
the modern heraldic sign of baronetcy. 

The hand in the customary position of benediction 
is sometimes open and extended, while at other times 
only the first and second fingers are straightened. 
The power which the extended hand may exert is 
well illustrated In the biblical account (Exodus 17: 
11) "And it came to pass when Moses held up his 
hand that Israel prevailed, and when he let down his 
hand Amalek prevailed." And so It happened that 
when Moses wearied of the constrained position his 
hand was supported by Aaron and by Hur. This Is 
only one of numerous illustrations in the holy writ- 
ings showing the talismanic influence of the human 
hand. There are comparatively few people who 
realize, to-day, that the conventional attitude of 
prayer as of benediction, with hands held up, is the 
old charm as against the evil eye. In one of the great 
marble columns in the Mosque of St. Sophia in Con- 
stantinople there is a remarkable natural freak by 
which there seems to appear upon the dark marble 
the white figure of an outspread hand. This is held 
in the highest reverence by the superstitious populace, 



24 THE EVIL EYE 

who all approach it to pray for protection from the 
evil eye. The open hand has also been stamped upon 
many a coin both in ancient and modern times, and 
the general prevalence of the hand as a form of door- 
knocker can be seen alike in the ruins of Pompeii 
and the modern dwelling. 

The hand clenched in various forms has been used 
in more ways than as a mere signal or sign of defi- 
ance. In Italy the mano-fica implies contempt or in- 
sult rather than defiance. Among all the Latin races 
this peculiar gesture of the thumb between the first 
and second fingers has a significant name and a sig- 
nificant meaning. It is connected everywhere with 
the fig, and expresses in the most discourteous way 
that which is implied in our English phrase **don't 
care a fig.'* It is in common use as an amulet to be 
worn from the neck or about the body, and conveys 
the same meaning as that which the Neapolitans fre- 
quently express when they say "May the evil eye do 
you no harm." Another position of the hand, name- 
ly, that with the index and little fingers extended, 
while the middle and ring fingers are flexed and 
clasped by the thumb, gives also the rude imitation of 
the head of a horned animal, and is frequently spok- 
en of as the mano cornuta. A Neapolitan's right hand 
is frequently, in some instances almost constantly, kept 
in that position pointing downwards, just as hand 
charms are made to hang downwards, save when it is 
desired to use the sign against some particular indi- 
vidual, when the hand is pointed toward him, even 



THE EVIL EYE 25 

at his very eyes if he appear much to be dreaded. 
When, however, the hand in this position is pointed 
toward one's chin it conveys a most insulting mean- 
ing and hints at conjugal infidelity. As the Neapol- 
itan cab-men pass each other the common sign is to 
wave the hand in gesture and in this position. This 
is true also of many other places. 

The sign of the cross is very often made with the 
hand, usually with the first two fingers extended, and 
seems to mean a benediction of double potency, be- 
cause both the hand and the cross itself are utilized 
in the gesture. I have elsewhere discussed the sig- 
nification of the sign of the cross, and do not care 
to take it up again just now. It is certainly of phallic 
origin and as certainly antedates the Christian era by 
many hundred years. It is, in other words, a pa- 
gan symbol to which a newer significance has been 
given. Talismanic power has usually been ascribed 
to it, and in some form, either as the Greek Tau or 
the Crux Ansata, has been most frequently employed. 
In one or the other of these forms it was the mark 
set upon the houses of the Israelites to preserve them 
from the destroying angel. In the roll of the Roman 
soldiery, after a battle, it was placed after the names 
of those still alive ; and we read in Ezekiel 9 14. of 
the mark which was to be set upon "the foreheads of 
the men that cry," which was certainly the Greek 
Tau, because the Vulgate plainly states this. Upon 
some of the old Anglo-Saxon coins there was placed 
a cross on each side, usually the handled cross, and 



26 THE EVIL EYE 

upon various seals it has been in use until a compara- 
tively recent period. It may be seen, also, in many 
illustrations from the catacombs, for instance, dating 
back to a time before the cross was a generally re- 
ceived Christian emblem, showing both the use of 
the cross and the hand in the positions to which I 
have already alluded. The sign of the cross is made 
by many a schoolboy in his play before he shoots his 
marble, and I have often seen it made upon the wood- 
en ball before a man has bowled with it. Many a 
peasant scratches it upon his field after sowing, and 
many a housewife has scratched it upon her dough. 

The hand with the first two fingers and thumb ex- 
tended in the ordinary position of sacerdotal benedic- 
tion was certainly a charm against evil long before 
the Christian era. This is not used so much by the 
common people, but has been appropriated rather by 
the priests. By a sort of general consent this has been 
especially the attitude permitted to the Second Per- 
son of the Trinity, although there are numerous in- 
stances in mediaeval painting where the hand of the 
First Person has been shown in this position. In- 
deed, the expression ''dexter a Dei,'' or * 'right hand 
of God," is conventionalized. 

In many amulets, images and pictures, other charms 
are combined with that supposed to be exercised by 
the human hand. An exceedingly common one was 
the Egyptian scarab. The Egyptians believed that 
there were no females of this kind of insect, hence 
it was considered a symbol of virility and manly force, 



THE EVIL EYE 27 

and in connection with the mano pantea just alluded 
to gave the amulet power to guard both the living 
and dead. In fact it was almost as common upon 
these emblems as the human eye itself. 

Again, the serpent was a frequent emblem in this 
same connection. As I have elsewhere written upon 
the subject of serpent-worship I need scarcely more 
than allude to it here, save to say that to the serpent 
were ascribed numerous virtues and powers, and that 
its use upon any charm was supposed to reinforce the 
virtues already possessed by it. 

Among the most curious of all the Italian charms 
against the Evil Eye, and yet one which has been 
singularly neglected by most writers, is the sprig of 
rue or, as the Neapolitans call it, the cimaruta. In 
Its simplest form it was undoubtedly of Etruscan or 
Phoenician origin. Later, however, it became curi- 
ously involved with other symbols and quite compli- 
cated. It is worn especially upon the breasts of Nea- 
politan babies, and Is considered their especial pro- 
tection against the much-dreaded jettatura. In an- 
cient times no plant had so many virtues ascribed to 
it as had the rue. Pliny, Indeed, cites it as being a 
remedy for 84 different diseases. It used to be hung 
about the neck in primeval times to serve as an amu- 
let against fascination. In most of these amulet forms 
it consists of three branches, which were supposed to 
be typical of Diana Triformis, who used often to be 
represented In three positions and as if having three 
pairs of arms. 



28 THE EVIL EYE 

Diana, by the way, was the especial protectress of 
women in child-birth. Silver was her own metal and 
the moon her special emblem. Therefore, the expres- 
sion, "the silver moon" is not so meaningless as it 
would appear. This will in some measure account for 
the fact that corals, to which large virtues were as- 
cribed, used always to be mounted in silver, and that 
the crescent, or new moon, is also almost invariably 
made of this same metal. Of the many charms which 
used to be combined in the cimaruta there is scarcely 
one which may not be more or less considered as con- 
nected with Diana, the Goddess of Infants. 

Frequently, also, we may see representations of the 
sea-horse quite like the living hippocampi of to-day, 
which are worn alike by cab horses and by women in 
Naples. They are known locally as the Cavalli ma- 
rini. 

Protection supposed to be most efficient was and is 
frequently afforded also by another method, namely, 
printed or written invocations, prayers, formulae, 
etc., worn somewhere about the body. Sometimes 
these were worn concealed from view and at others 
they were openly displayed. Even to-day on Turk- 
ish horses and Arab camels are hung little bags con- 
taining passages from the Koran, while the Neapoli- 
tan horses frequently carry in little canvas bags pray- 
ers to the Madonna or verses from scripture, — these 
as a sort of last resort in case the other charms fail. 
The good Catholic of to-day, especially if of Irish 
descent, wears his little scapulary suspended around 



THE EVIL EYE 29 

the neck, which Is supposed to be a potent protection. 
Frommannd's large work on Magic offers us a perfect 
mine of written spells against fascination, which have 
often to be prepared with certain mystic observances. 
The various written charms, as against the bite of 
the mad dog, are only other illustrations of the same 
superstition. Indeed, many superstitious people be- 
lieve that the mere utterance of particular numbers 
exercises a charm. Daily expression of this belief we 
see in the credulity about the luck of odd numbers, 
and the old belief that the third time will be lucky. 
Military salutes are always in odd numbers. More 
value attaches in public estimation to the number sev- 
en than to any other, as we see in the miraculous pow- 
ers ascribed to the seventh son of a seventh son. 

An appeal to luck to-day is the equivalent of the 
old prayer to the Goddess Fortuna, and is voiced in 
the common idea about the lucky coin and the various 
little observances for luck which are so popular. 
These observances are everywhere inclusive of the 
popular importance attached to expectoration, which 
is one of the most curious features of these many 
widespread beliefs. The habit of spitting on a coin, 
for instance, is very common, just as the schoolboy 
spits on his agate when playing marbles or on his 
baseball, or the bowler upon his wooden ball before 
rolling it. In fact, this whole matter of spitting has 
been In all ages an expression of a deep-rooted popu- 
lar belief. Among the ancient Greeks and Romans 
the most common remedy against an envious look was 



30 THE EVIL EYE 

spitting, hence it was called ^'despuere malum** Old 
women would avert the evil eye from their children 
by spitting three times (observe the odd number) in- 
to their bosoms. 

The virtues and properties attributed to saliva 
among various peoples have been numerous and ex- 
alted. To lick a wart on rising In the morning used 
to be one of its well-recognized cures, and is to-day 
a popular remedy for any slight wound. Especially 
was the saliva of a fasting person peculiarly effica- 
cious. Pliny states that when a person looks upon an 
Infant asleep the nurse should spit three times upon 
the ground. But the most marvellous virtues were 
attributed to saliva In the direction of restoration of 
sight. The most conspicuous Illustration of this is 
the instance mentioned In the New Testament when 
Christ healed the blind man, for It is related that: 

"He spat on the ground and made clay of the spit- 
tle, and did anoint the eyes of the blind man with the 
clay." 

The practice of concealing the eyes is prevalent 
throughout the Orient, and among the Moham- 
medans, cannot be referred entirely to male jealousy, 
for the women themselves confess to the greatest re- 
luctance to show their faces to the stranger, fearing 
the Influence of the evil eye. 

Again, inasmuch as from time immemorial diseases 
of all kinds have been considered the direct result of 
fascination. It was most natural that charms of varied 
form should be introduced as a protection. Many 



THE EVIL EYE 31 

persons even of considerable education lend them- 
selves to this superstition. The carrying in one^s 
pocket of a potato, a lump of camphor or an amulet 
is, among other alleged charms, but an everyday il- 
lustration of this belief. 

It would be possible to go on with an almost end- 
less enumeration of the forms of this still generally 
prevalent belief in the power of the evil eye, and of 
the charms by which it may be averted. As has been 
set forth, it is but a particulate expression of a general 
and widespread belief in the existence of an evil be- 
ing, for some vague and almost unsubstantial, for oth- 
ers assuming almost the proportions of the personal 
devil of mediaeval theology, or even of the Tyrolean 
Passion Plays. A discussion in a general way of this 
topic I have held to be not entirely foreign to the 
purpose of this society, it being one of the most in- 
teresting subjects of folklore study, and it may perhaps 
be considered just at the present to have a more par- 
ticular interest for us in that we have so recently been 
favored with a most delightful and scholarly essay 
on the ''Salem Witchcraft" by Prof. John Fiske, In 
which he graphically set forth the mechanism and the 
consequences of an aggravated expression of this be- 
lief, which constitutes the most serious blot which can 
be found upon the history of the Protestant white 
races In this country. 



II 

THANATOLOGY 

A QUESTIONNAIRE AND A PLEA FOR A NEGLECTED 

STUDY 

IS it possible to watch the "vital spark of heav- 
enly flame," as it quits "this mortal frame" and 
not be overcome by the mystery of death as the 
termination of that even greater mystery, life? 
Is there inspiration in the pagan emperor's address 
to his soul — those Latin verses which Pope has so 
beautifully translated? 

To the speculative philosopher death may have a 
different significance, and one not altogether includ- 
ed in that given to it by the physiologist. To the 
former it is a subject for transcendental speculation; 
to the latter it is the terminal stage of that adjust- 
ment of internal and external relations which, for 
Spencer, constitutes life. For us its primary and im- 
mediate significance is purely mundane, yet it deserves 
such serious study from a practical viewpoint as it 
seldom receives. 

What is death? When does it actually occur? 
How can it occur when the majority of cells in the 
previously living organism live on for hours or for 



*Appeared first in the Journal of the American Medical As- 
sociation, April 27, 1912. 

32 



THANATOLOGY 33 

days or, under certain favoring circumstances, retain 
potentialities of life for indefinite periods? These 
and numberless related questions constitute a line of 
inquiry that may well call for a separate department 
of science. Pondering in this wise, I long ago coined 
an expression which years later I found had been in- 
corporated in the scientific dictionaries, though never 
before heard by me or encountered in my reading. 
"Thanatology" is this word, and it may be defined 
as the study of the nature and causes of death. In- 
separable from it, however, are certain considerations 
regarding the nature and causes of life. Yet I would 
not introduce a compound term such as ^'biothanatol- 
ogy,'^ wishing so far as possible to limit the study and 
the meaning. 

Let us ask ourselves a few more questions. Does 
life inhere in any particular cell? In the leukocytes? 
In the neurons? Both are capable of stimulated ac- 
tivity long after the death of their host. In fact, by 
suitable electric stimulation, nearly all the phenom- 
ena of life may be reproduced after death, save con- 
sciousness and mentality alone. Do these then con- 
stitute life, and their suppression or abolition death? 
If so what about the condition of trance, or of ab- 
solute imbecility, congenital or induced? Or, again, 
how can a decapitated frog go on living for hours? 
Is it perhaps because the heart is the vital organ that 
the hearts of some animals will continue to palpitate 
for hours after their removal from the bodies? Yet 
the animals which have lost them certainly promptly 



34 THANATOLOGY 

die. Suddenly stop a man's heart-action by electrocu- 
tion, or the guillotine, or a bullet, and he dies, we 
say, instantly. Let it stop equally suddenly under 
chloroform and there is a period of several minutes 
during which it may be set going. Let a man appar- 
ently drown and this viable period becomes even 
longer — say a goodly fraction of an hour. During 
the interval is he alive or dead, or is there an inter- 
mediate period of absolutely suspended animation? 
And if so, in what does it consist ? 

Is there a vital principle? If so what is it? Is 
such a thing conceivable? Can such a concept pre- 
vail among physicists? Can we consent even to en- 
tertain in this direction the notion of what is so 
vaguely called "the soul?" Of course, those who talk 
most lucidly about the soul know least about it, and 
no man can define it in comprehensible terms; but 
can consideration of the soul (whatever it may be) 
be omitted from our thanatology? Probably not, 
at least by many thinkers who cannot segregate their 
physics from their theology. Sad it is that theology, 
which might be so consolatory had it any fixed foun- 
dation, should be utterly impotent when so much is 
wanted of it. Theology, however, has little if aught 
to do with thanatology. 

Is protoplasm alive? If so, then why may we not 
believe, with Binet, in the psychic life of micro-or- 
ganisms? He seems to have advanced good reason 
for assuming that we may do so, albeit such manifes- 
tations in either direction may be scarcely more than 



THANATOLOGY 35 

expressions of chemiotaxis. But if protoplasm be 
alive in any proper sense, as it would appear (else 
where draw the line?), just when does it so appear 
and whence comes its life? If it be alive, then life 
inheres in the nitrogen compounds composing it, or 
else is an adjunct of matter, imponderable, elusive, 
something ww-conceivable if undeniable. The vital- 
ists are of late perhaps attaining an ascendency which 
for decades they had lost, since they maintain that 
life is not to be explained by chemical activities alone. 
And yet it is possible to set going in the eggs of cer- 
tain sea animals the phenomena of life, or to liberate 
them by certain weak solutions of alkaline cyanids, 
without the pressure or assistance of fructifying sper- 
matozoa. In such cases life or death are determined 
by ionization and certain chemicals, or by their ab- 
sence. Where then, again, is the vital principle ? Or 
is it inherent in the ion, and was Bion correct when 
he said "electricity is life?" 

The life of a cell is then necessarily quite distinct 
from the life of its host, nor can the latter be com- 
posed simply of the numerical total lives of its com- 
ponents. Some lower animals bear semidivision. In 
which case each half soon becomes a complete unit by 
itself. Others seem to bear the loss of almost any 
individual part without loss of life, and it Is hard 
to say just which is the vital part. The central pump- 
ing organ is perhaps the sine qua non, when it exists. 
But when non-existent, then what? 

Again, while a living organism may be artificially 



36 THANATOLOGY 

divided into viable portions, no method seems known 
by which a series of separate cells may be, as it were, 
assembled or combined into one, of which a new unit 
may result from assemblage or combination. The 
more highly specialized or complex the cell, the more 
easily does it part with life, and the more difficult 
becomes its preservation and its reproduction. We 
may assume that after the death of a man his most 
specialized cells are the first to die, or more, that 
their death has perhaps preceded his own. In the 
ante-mortem collapse seen in many diseases and 
poisonings, has not this very thing occurred, i. e., that 
the patient has outlived his most important cells? 
Certainly when a patient dies of progressive gangrene 
he has outlived, perhaps, a large proportion of his 
millions of competent cells. Viewed properly, what 
a strange spectacle is here presented ! Perhaps twenty 
per cent, of his cells actually dead, the rest bathed 
in more or less poisonous media, still their host en- 
dures yet a little while. "Behold, I show you a great 
mystery." About which of the poisoned cells does 
the flame of life still flicker? 

The life-giving germ- and sperm-cells may exist 
and persist for some time after the body dies, as 
numerous experiences and experiments have shown. 
Ova and spermatozoa do not die the instant the host 
dies. And herein appears another great mystery, that 
cells from the undoubtedly dead body may possess and 
unfold the potentialities of life when properly en- 
vironed. Among the lower forms of life cells but 



THANATOLOGY 37 

slightly differentiated go on living and even creating 
new organisms, though the larger organisms be dead. 
Moreover, in what way shall we regard the division 
of one ameboid cell into two, equally alive and com- 
plete? Here two living organisms are made out of 
one, without death intervening, and by permutation 
alone may one calculate, through how few genera- 
tions cells need pass in order to be numbered by mil- 
lions, without a death necessary to the process. 

Thus far we have had in mind life and death in 
the animal kingdom alone. But most of what has 
been said, and much that has not, is equally true in 
the vegetable kingdom. Even in the mineral king- 
dom — as some think — the invariable and inevitable 
tendency to assume definite crystalline form repre- 
sents the lowest type of life. Indeed it might fall in 
with Spencer's definition as evincing a tendency to 
adjust internal to external relations, though exhibited 
only after such ruthless disturbance as liquefaction 
by heat or solution. But then, is not every disturb- 
ance of relations * 'ruthless," because it follows in- 
exorable habits of Nature? Even a crystal will re- 
form as frequently as appear certain other phenom- 
ena of life, if made to do so. Were atoms alive they 
would suffer with every fresh chemical change, and 
who knows but that they do? 

But in the vegetable world we certainly have all 
the features of life and death in complete form : fruc- 
tification of certain cells by certain others, develop- 
ment in unicellular form or in most profuse and com- 



38 THANATOLOGY 

plex form, a selection of necessary constituents of 
growth from apparently unpromising soil, and the 
production of startling results. Does not the sensi- 
tive plant evince a contact sensibility almost equal to 
that of the conjunctiva? And who shall say that it 
does not suffer when rudely handled? Does not the 
production of the complex essential oils and volatile 
ethers which give to certain flowers their wonderful 
fragrance, indicating what strange combinations of 
crude materials have been effected within their cells, 
show as wonderful a laboratory as any concealed with- 
in the animal organisms? Yet death comes to these 
plants with equal certainty, and presents equally per- 
plexing mysteries. When dies the flower? When 
plucked and separated from its natural supply or when 
it begins to fade (a period made more or less varia- 
ble by the care given it), or when it ceases to emit its 
odor? And is then death a matter of hours? When 
the floral stem was snapped what else snapped with 
it? At what instant did the floral murder occur? 

Every seed and every seedling possesses marvel- 
ous potentiality of life, and so long as it does we say 
it is not dead; nor yet is it alive. It resists consid- 
erable degrees of heat, will bear the lowest tempera- 
ture, will remain latent for long periods, and still its 
cells will instantly respond to favoring stimuli. Its 
actual life is apparently aroused by purely thermic 
and chemical (electrionic?) activities environing it. 
In what do its life and its death consist? 

But life and death are influenced — we say "strange- 



THANATOLOGY 39 

ly'' only because it all seems strange to us — ^by un- 
common or purely artificial conditions. Radium ema- 
nations have always an injurious effect on embryonic 
development. Under their influence, for example, 
the eggs of amphibia become greatly disturbed. Cells 
that should specialize into nerve, ganglion and muscle 
fail to develop, and consequently there may be pro- 
duced minute amphibian monsters, destitute of nerves 
and muscles, but otherwise nearly normal. Hertwig 
has submitted the sperm-cells of sea urchins to these 
rays, without killing them, but invariably with conse- 
quent abnormal development. 

The effect of cathode or ;c-rays is even more widely 
recognized and has been more generally demon- 
strated. They seem to possess properties injurious 
to most cell-life and even fatal to some. 

Still more puzzling, and weird in a way, are the 
results of experiments, now widely practiced, which 
have to do with juggling, as it were, with ova, larvae 
and embryos, by all imaginable combinations of sub- 
division and reattachment of parts, so that there have 
resulted all kinds of monstrosities and abnormalities. 
To such an extent has this laboratory play been car- 
ried that almost any desired product can be furnished 
— living creatures with two heads, two tails, or what- 
ever combination may be determined. 

Among the most remarkable of these efforts have 
been those of Vianney, of Lyons, who has shown that 
it is possible to remove the head end of several diff- 
ferent insect larvae without preventing their develop- 



40 THANATOLOGY 

ment and metamorphosis into the butterfly stage. In 
Bombyx larvae, for example, the butterflies arrived 
at the mature stage, with streaked wings and beautiful 
coloration, but almost headless. These anencephal- 
ous insects lived for some time. 

Few animals survive exposures of any length to a 
temperature much over 150 F., and most of them are 
killed by considerably less heat. Freezing has always 
been considered equally fatal. Gangrene is the com- 
mon result of freezing a part of the human body, and 
that means local death. Extraordinary pains must be 
taken with a frozen ear or finger if its vitality is to be 
restored. And so even with the hibernating, or the 
cold-blooded animals, a really low temperature has 
been generally regarded as fatal. 

But the recent experiments of Pictet, who did so 
much in the production of exceedingly low tempera- 
tures, freezing of gases, etc., have shown some start- 
ling results in the failure to kill goldfish and other 
of the lower animals by refrigeration. For instance, 
goldfish were placed in a tank whose water was grad- 
ually frozen while the fish were still moving therein. 
The result was a cake of ice with imprisoned sup- 
posedly dead fish. This ice was then reduced to a 
still lower temperature, at which it was maintained 
for over two months. It was then very slowly thawed 
out, whereupon the fish came to life and moved in 
apparently their normal and natural ways as if noth- 
ing had happened. 

This confirms Pictet's early experiments and con- 



THANATOLOGY 41 

victlons, that if the chemical reactions of living or- 
ganisms can be suspended without causing organic 
lesions the phenomena of life will temporarily disap- 
pear, to return when conditions are again as usual. 
It is worth relating that his fish frozen in this way 
could be broken in small pieces just as if they were 
part of the ice itself. 

How often during these recent decades when events 
have seemed to move faster, when discoveries and 
inventions have been announced at such frequent and 
brief Intervals that we fail to note them all for lack 
of time, when haste and rush characterize habits 
alike of life and thought, do we find that we simply 
must stop, as it were for breath, while we unload 
a large amount of accumulated mental rubbish and 
clear a space in our storage capacity for up-to-date 
knowledge ! It is a decennial mental house-cleaning 
process. We must unlearn so much of that which ten 
to forty years ago we so laboriously learned. We 
must adopt new and improved reasoning processes. 
But it is hard to do all this. For Instance, as a boy I 
learned the old chemistry quite thoroughly. During 
a subsequent interval, when I did not need to study 
it, came the new chemistry, and when I again required 
it I had not only to study a practically new science — 
which was not so bad — but to rid my brain of much 
that had really found firm lodgment there, and this 
was difficult or Impossible. So it is with one who, 
having been brought up on Euclidean geometry, finds 
himself confronted with the comparatively new non- 



42 THANATOLOGY 

Euclidean, and who has then not merely to forget, 
but to unlearn all those fundamental axioms which 
seemed so plain and so indisputable, that is, if he 
would accept the teachings of Bolyai and others. For 
example, that a straight line is not necessarily the 
shortest route between two points shocks our Eucli- 
dean orthodoxy, and is at the same time, to us, incon- 
ceivable; as also that parallel lines indefinitely pro- 
longed may touch, and the like ; likewise the concept 
of four-dimensional spaces, or worse yet, «-dimen- 
sional. And now, in somewhat like manner and to 
a certain degree, must we revise our previous con- 
ceptions of death, at least to this extent: Not that 
we yet know much better than we did what it really is, 
but that we know more about what it is not. Even 
save, perhaps, in its instantaneous happening it is but 
a step toward dissolution, usually not the first, cer- 
tainly not the last, but yet the most conspicuous. 

Death is in many respects a biochemical fact. It 
is so intertwined with ionic changes in the ar- 
rangement of matter that we may hope for more in- 
formation regarding some of its aspects as knowledge 
of the latter accumulates. 

But, evidently, we need to clarify our notions as we 
rearrange our facts. Somatic death is, after all, a 
most complex process. It may be shortened by in- 
stant and complete incineration, but scarcely in any 
other way. Even dynamite would scarcely simplify 
the problem. As to conscious death, that is probably 
(though not certainly) a matter of seconds only or 



THANATOLOGY 43 

possibly fractions of a second. While we have no 
accurate appreciation of what constitutes conscious- 
ness, nor even just where It resides, the central ner- 
vous system appears to be its most probable seat. But 
conscious death may occur almost instantly without 
Injury to this system, as when a bullet passes through 
the thorax and the heart, without injuring the spine. 

But what is it that suddenly checks all concerted 
and interdependent activity? Or does something or 
some controlling agency suddenly leave the body? 

A recent theory, having features to commend it, is 
to the effect that life Is a property or a feature of the 
ultimate corpuscles which compose the atom. Since 
these corpuscles bear to their containing atom a rela- 
tive size comparable to that of the tiniest visible In- 
sect winging its way in a large church edifice, the in- 
tricacies of this particular theory readily appear. But 
it does seem as though among ourselves life has much 
to do with the hitherto neglected and despised nitro- 
gen atom or molecule, since life inheres par excellence 
in nitrogen compounds. Moreover, vitality is conspicu- 
ously a feature of those chemical elements which have 
the lowest atomic weight, while at the other end of 
the table of atomic weights stands radium, of whose 
destructive emanations I have already spoken. 

Another phase of the general subject of thanatol- 
ogy was suggested especially by Osier, who a few 
years ago called attention to the fact that but few, 
If any patients really die of the disease from which 
they have been suffering. This is not a paradox, and 



44 THANATOLOGY 

needs only reason and observation to confirm it. His 
statement was a preliminary to the consideration of 
terminal infections and toxemias, which of itself 
would be sufficient to erect thanatology into a digni- 
fied special study. Take, for instance, a patient who 
has long suffered from diabetes. The end is charac- 
terized by coma, i. e., an evidence of profound tox- 
emia, and is in large measure due to acetonemia. A 
patient with chronic Bright's disease dies of uremic 
poisoning, or one with pneumonia dies of genuine 
heart-failure. The terminal stage of cancer is, again, 
toxemia of one kind or another, according as it has 
interfered with digestion, with respiration, or some 
other vital function, or has broken down, thus saturat- 
ing the patient with septic products. 

This aspect of the subject will bear any amount of 
study and elaboration, and its mention here should be 
sufficient for my purpose. Accordingly as it is prop- 
erly appreciated, it will be recognized as having an 
important practical bearing, since, if we may foresee 
the direction from which the final danger threatens, 
it may be the better and the longer averted. 

Another very important and practical subject is 
wrapped up in this one, namely, the utilization of 
apparently dead, or at least of only potentially living 
material (tissue) in the various methods of grafting 
or transplantation, which are to-day a part of the sur- 
geon's work. The methods are themselves a trans- 
plantation of experiences gained by work in the veg- 
etable kingdom. What wonder that the marvels re- 



THANATOLOGY 45 

vealed in one department should have incited work 
along parallel lines in the other? That flowers and 
fruit of one kind may be made to grow on a tree of 
a very different kind excites but a small amount of 
the astonishment it deserves, mainly because it is now 
a common occurrence, though properly regarded it 
might seem a miracle. 

Differing only in minor respect is, for example, the 
removal of thyroidal tissue from one human being 
and its implantation into another, with functional suc- 
cess. One may ask just here, how is this matter con- 
cerned with thanatology? And the reply is: If this 
tissue were taken from a fresh corpse it would be by 
most people regarded as dead tissue. If so, does 
the dead come to life? Without violating the proper 
scientific use of the imagination one may fancy some- 
thing like the following : Let a healthy young wom- 
an meet accidental and instantaneous death. It would 
be possible to use no inconsiderable portion of her 
body for grafting or other justifiable surgical pro- 
cedures. The arteries and nerves could be used, both 
in the fresh state, and the former even after preserva- 
tion, for suitable transplantation or repair work on 
the vascular and nervous systems of a considerable 
number of other people. So also could the thyroid, 
the cornea, the ovaries and especially the bones. All 
the teeth, if healthy, could be reimplanted. With 
the thin bones, ribs especially, plastic operations — 
particularly on the noses — of fifty people could be 
made. And then the exterior of the body could be 



46 THANATOLOGY 

made to supply any amount of normal integument 
with which to do heterologous dermatoplastic opera- 
tions, or would furnish an almost inexhaustible sup- 
ply of epidermis for Thiersch grafts, which latter 
material need not be used in the fresh state, but could 
be preserved and made available some days and even 
weeks later. A portion of the muscles might possibly 
be made available for checking oozing from bleeding 
surfaces of others, if used while still fresh and warm, 
and possibly portions of the ureters or some other 
portion of the remains might be utilized for some un- 
usual purpose. Then what extracts or extractives 
might be prepared from other parts of the body, pit- 
uitary, adrenals, bone -marrow, etc.? The tendons 
might also be prepared for sutures. Every one of 
these procedures would give promise of success, the 
technic being in every respect satisfactory. 

But the possible limit is not yet reached, since with 
each kidney might be carried out experiments like 
those feats of physiologic jugglery such as Carrel has 
shown us, by implanting one, say in the neck, connect- 
ing up the renal with the carotid artery, and the 
renal vein with the jugular, while some receptacle 
would have to be provided as a terminal for the 
ureter. , 

This is, after all, not a fantastic dream, nor such 
an extreme picture as would at first appear, since every 
organ or tissue above-mentioned — and more — has 
been used as indicated, and with success. 

But imagine the dead body affording viable pro- 



THANATOLOGY 47 

ducts, even indirectly life itself, to (possibly) so many 
others! Does this complicate the study of death? 
And what must become of the simple credulous faith 
of the zealot who believes in the actual and absolute 
resurrection, at some later date? 

There is something more than mere transcendental- 
ism in the science of thanatology; it has a plausible 
medicolegal and pragmatic import. Right glad should 
I be if I might arouse a deserved interest in it. 

How may I more fittingly conclude than by quoting 
a few lines from our own Bryant's "Thanatopsis" : 

"Earth that nourished thee, shall claim 
Thy growth, to be resolved to earth again. 
And, lost each human trace, surrendering up 
Thine individual being, shalt thou go 
To mix forever with the elements." 

Though were I minded to rehearse certain difficul- 
ties met in the preparation of this paper, which I 
have long had in mind, I might also add the follow- 
ing lines from the same poet's "Hymn to Death" : 

"Alas! I little thought that the stern power 
Whose fateful praise I sung, would try me thus 
Before the strain was ended." 

One may well quote, at this point, Lamartine, who 
asked, "What is life but a series of preludes to that 
mystery whose initial solemn note is tolled by death?" 



48 THANATOLOGY 

(On this theme Liszt built up that wonderful sym- 
phonic tone poem "Les Preludes." ) 

Even infinity is now questioned by the mathemati- 
cians. This being the case, where shall we, where 
can we stop? 



Note, — While writing the foregoing paper there came to 
my notice the recent book "Death; Its Causes and Phenomena," 
by Carrington and Header (London, 1911). It is interesting, 
but save that it contains a helpful bibliography, is of little assist- 
ance to one wishing to pursue the study from its pragmatic as- 
pect. One of the authors is committed to a personal theory that 
death is caused by cessation of the vibrations which during life 
maintain vital activity; the other that death is, as it were, the cul- 
mination of a bad habit of expectancy that something of the kind 
must occur, into which we have fallen, in spite of the fact that 
other living beings below man undergo the same fate, though 
not capable of expecting anything. 



Ill 

SERPENT-MYTHS AND SERPENT- 
WORSHIP 

SINCE the dawn of written history, and 
from the most remote periods, the serpent 
has been regarded with the highest ven- 
eration as the most mysterious of living 
creatures. Being alike an object of wonder, ad- 
miration and fear, it is not strange that it became 
early connected with numerous superstitions; and 
when we remember how imperfectly understood were 
its habits we shall not wonder at the extraordinary 
attributes with which it was invested, nor perhaps 
even why it obtained so general a worship. Thus 
centuries ago Horapollo referring to serpent symbol- 
ism, said: "When the Egyptians were representing a 
universe they delineated the spectacle as a variegated 
snake devouring its own tail, the scales intimating the 
stars in the universe, the animal being extremely 
heavy, as is the earth, and extremely slippery like the 
water; moreover it every year puts off its old age 
with its skin as, in the universe, the recurring year 
effects a corresponding change, and becomes reno- 
vated, while the making use of its own body for food 
implies that all things whatever which are generated 



A Presidential Address before the Buflfalo Society of Natural 
Sciences. 



49 



i 



so SERPENT-MYTHS AND WORSHIP 

by divine providence in the world undergo a corrup- 
tion Into them again." 

In all probability the annual shedding of the skin 
and the supposed rejuvenation of the animal was that 
which first connected it with the idea of eternal suc- 
cession of form, subsequent reproduction and dissolu- 
tion. This doctrine is typified in the notion of the 
succession of ages which prevailed among the Greeks, 
and the similar notion met with among nearly all 
primitive peoples. The ancient mysteries, with few 
or perhaps no exceptions, were all intended to illus- 
trate the grand phenomena of nature. The mysteries 
of Osiris, Isis and Horus in Egypt; of Cybele in 
Phrygia, of Ceres and Proserpine at Eleusis, of 
Venus and Adonis in Phoenicia, of Bona Dea and of 
Priapus in Rome, all had this sin common, that they 
both mystified and typified the creation of things and 
the perpetuation of life. In all of them the serpent 
was conspicuously introduced as it symbolized and 
indicated the invigorating energy of nature. In the 
mysteries of Ceres, the grand secret which was com- 
municated to the initiates was put in this enigma, — 
*'The bull has begotten a serpent and the serpent a 
bull," the bull being a prominent emblem of genera- 
tive force. In ancient Egypt it was usually the bulPs 
horns which served as a symbol for the entire ani- 
mal. When with the progress of centuries the bull be- 
came too expensive an animal to be commonly used 
for any purpose, the ram was substituted; hence the 
frequency of the ram's horns, as a symbol for Jove, 



SERPENT-MYTHS AND WORSHIP 51 

seen so frequently, for example, among Roman an- 
tiquities. 

Originally fire was taken to be one of the em- 
blems of the sun, and thus most naturally, inevitably 
and universally the sun came to symbolize the active, 
vivifying principle of nature. That the serpent should 
in time typify the same principle, while the egg sym- 
bolized the more passive or feminine element, is 
equally certain but less easy of explanation; indeed 
we are to regard the serpent as the symbol of the great 
hermaphrodite first principle of nature. "It entered 
into the mythology of every nation, consecrated al- 
most every temple, symbolized almost every deity, 
was imagined in the heavens, stamped on the earth 
and ruled in the realms of eternal sorrow." For this 
animal was estimated to be the most spirited of all 
reptiles of fiery nature, inasmuch as it exhibits an in- 
credible celerity, moving by its spirit without hands 
or feet or any of the external members by which oth- 
er animals effect their motion, while in its progress it 
assumes a variety of forms, moving in a spiral course 
and darting forward with whatever degree of swift- 
ness it pleases. 

The close relationship if not absolute Identity 
among the early races of man between Solar, Phallic 
and Serpent worship was most striking; so marked 
indeed as to indicate that they are all forms of a 
single worship. It is with the latter that we must 
for a little while concern ourselves. How prom- 
inent a place serpent worship plays in our own Old 



52 SERPENT-MYTHS AND WORSHIP 

Testament will be remarked as soon as one begins to 
reflect upon it. The part played by the serpent in 
the biblical myth concerning the origin of man is the 
first and most striking illustration. In the degener- 
ated ancient mysteries of Bacchus some of the persons 
who took part in the ceremonies used to carry ser- 
pents in their hands and with horrid screams call 
"Eva, Eva;" the attendants were in fact often 
crowned with serpents while still making these fran- 
tic cries. In the Sabazian mysteries the snake was 
permitted to slip into the bosom of the person to be 
initiated and then to be removed from below the 
clothing. This ceremony was said to have originated 
among the Magi. It has been held that the invoca- 
tion "Eva" related to the great mother of mankind; 
even so good an authority as Clemens of Alexandria 
held to this opinion, but Clemens also acknowledges 
that the name Eva, when properly aspirated is prac- 
tically the same as Epha, or Opha, which the Greeks 
call Ophis, which is, in English, serpent. In most 
of the other mysteries serpent rites were introduced 
and many of the names were extremely suggestive. 
The Abaddon mentioned in the book of Revelation is 
certainly some serpent deity, since the prefix Ab, sig- 
nifies not only father, but serpent. By Zoroaster the 
expanse of the heavens and even nature itself was 
described under the symbol of the serpent. In an- 
cient Persia temples were erected to the serpent tribe, 
and festivals consecrated to their honor, some relic 
of this being found in the word Basilicus, or royal 



SERPENT-MYTHS AND WORSHIP 53 

serpent, which gives rise to the term Basilica applied 
to the Christian churches of the present era. The 
Ethiopians, even, of the present day derive their 
name from the Greek Aithiopes, meaning the serpent 
gods worshipped long before them ; again, the Island 
of Euboea signifies the Serpent Island and properly 
spelled should be Oub-Aia. The Greeks claimed that 
Medusa's head was brought by Perseus, by which 
they mean the serpent deity, as the worship was in- 
troduced into Greece by a people called Peresians. The 
head of Medusa denoted divine wisdom, while the 
Island was sacred to the serpent. The worship of the 
serpent being so old, many places as well as races re- 
ceived names indicating the prevalence of this general 
superstition; but this is no time to catalogue names, 
— though one perhaps should mention Ophis, Oboth, 
Eva in Macedonia, Dracontia, and last but not least, 
the name of Eve and the Garden of Eden. 

Seth was, according to some, a semi-divine first 
ancestor of the Semites; Bunsen has shown that sev- 
eral of the antedeluvian descendants of Adam were 
among the Phoenician deities; thus Carthagenians 
had as God, Yubal or Jubal who would appear to 
have been the sun-god of Esculapius ; or, spelled more 
correctly, Ju-Baal, that is Beauty of Baal. 

Whether or not the serpent symbol has a distinct 
phallic reference has been disputed, but the more the 
subject is broadly studied the more it would seem 
that such is the case. It must certainly appear that 
the older races had that form of belief with which the 



54 SERPENT-MYTHS AND WORSHIP 

serpent was always more or less symbolically con- 
nected, that is, adoration of the male principle of gen- 
eration, one of whose principal phases was undoubt- 
edly ancestor worship, while somewhat later the race 
adored the female principle which they symbolized by 
the sacred tree so often alluded to in Scripture as the 
Assyrian grove. Whether snakes be represented 
singly, coupled in pairs as in the well known Caduceus 
or Rod of Esculaipius, or in the crown placed upon 
the head of many a god and goddess, or the many 
headed snake drinking from the jewelled cup, or a 
snake twisted around a tree with another approaching 
it, suggesting temptation and fall, — in all these the 
underlying principle is always the same. Symbols of 
this character are met with not only in the temples 
of ancient Egypt but in ruins antedating them in Per- 
sia and the East; in the antiquities belonging to the 
races that first peopled what is now Greece and Italy, 
in the rock markings of India and of Central Europe, 
in the Cromlechs of Great Britain and Scandinavia, in 
the Great Serpent Mound which still remains in Ohio, 
and in many other mounds left by the mound build- 
ers of this country, in the ruins of Central America 
and Yucatan, and in the traditions and relics of the 
Aztecs and Toltecs, — in fact wherever antiquarian re- 
search has penetrated or where monuments of ancient 
peoples remain. There never has been so widespread 
a superstition, and no matter what later forms it may 
have assumed we must admit that it, first of all, and 
for a long time was man's tribute to the great, all 



SERPENT-MYTHS AND WORSHIP S5 

powerful and unknown regenerative principle of na- 
ture, which has been deified again and again, and 
which always has been and always will be the greatest 
mystery within the ken of mankind. 

Brown in his "Great Dionysiak Myth" says the 
serpent has these points of connection with Dionysus, 
( I ) as a symbol of and connected with wisdom, ( 2 ) 
as a solar emblem, (3) as a symbol of time and eter- 
nity, (4) as an emblem of the earth, life, (5) as 
connected with the fertilizing mystery, (6) as a phal- 
lic emblem. Referring to the last of these he says: 
"The serpent being connected with the sun, the earth, 
life and fertility, must needs be also a phallic em- 
blem, and was appropriate to the cult of Dionysos 
Priapos." Again, Sir G. W. Cox says, "It is unneces- 
sary to analyze theories which profess to see in it 
worship of the creeping brute or the wide-spreading 
tree; a religion based upon the worship of the ven- 
omous reptile must have been a religion of terror. In 
the earliest glimpses which we have the serpent is the 
symbol of life and of love, nor is the phallic cultus 
in any respect a cult of the full grown branching tree." 
Again, "This religion, void of reason, condemned in 
the wisdom of Solomon, probably survived even 
Babylonian captivity; certainly it was adopted by the 
sects of Christians which were known as Ophites, 
Gnostics and Nicolaitans." 

Another learned author says: "By comparing the 
varied legends of the East and West in conjunction 
we obtain a full outline of the mythology of the an- 



S6 SERPENT-MYTHS AND WORSHIP 

cients. It recognizes as the primary element of things 
two independent principles of nature, the male and 
female, and these, in characteristic union as the soul 
and body, constitute the Great Hermaphrodite Deity, 
the one, the universe itself, consisting still of the two 
separate elements of its composition, modified though 
combined in one individual, of which all things are re- 
garded but as parts." In fact the characteristics of 
all pagan deities, male or female, gradually mold 
into each other and at last into one or two; for as 
William Jones has stated, it seems a well-founded 
opinion that the entire list of gods and goddesses 
means only the powers of nature, principally those of 
the sun, expressed in a variety of ways with a multi- 
tude of fanciful names. The Creation is, in fact, hu- 
man rather than a divine product in this sense, that it 
was suggested to the mind of man by the existence of 
things, while its method was, at least at first, sug- 
gested by the operation of nature ; thus man saw the 
living bird emerge from the egg, after a certain 
period of incubation, a phenomenon equivalent to ac- 
tual creation as apprehended by his simple mind. In- 
cubation obviously then associated itself with creation, 
and this fact will explain the universality with which 
the egg was received as a symbol in the earlier sys- 
tems of cosomogony. By a similar process creation 
came to be symbolized in the form of a phallus, and 
so Egyptians in their refinement of these ideas adopt- 
ed as their symbol of the great first cause a Sca- 
rabaeus, indicating the great hermaphroditic unity, 



SERPENT-MYTHS AND WORSHIP 57 

since they believed this insect to be both male and 
female. They beautifully typified a part of this idea 
also in the adoration which they paid to the water 
lily, or Lotus, so generally regarded as sacred 
throughout the East. It is the sublime and beautiful 
symbol which perpetually occurs in oriental mythol- 
ogy, and, as Maurice has stated, not without substan- 
tial reason, for it is its own beautiful progeny and 
contains a treasure of physical instruction. The lotus 
flower grows in the water among broad leaves, while 
in its center is formed a seed vessel shaped like a bell, 
punctured on the top with small cavities in which its 
seeds develop ; the openings into the seed cells are too 
small to permit the seeds to escape when ripe, conse- 
quently they absorb moisture and develop within the 
same, shooting forth as new plants from the place 
where they originated; the bulb of the vessel serv- 
ing as a matrix which shall nourish them until they 
are large enough to burst open and release themselves, 
after which they take root wherever deposited. "The 
plant, therefore, being itself productive of itself, 
vegetating from its own matrix, being fostered in the 
earth, was naturally adopted as a symbol of the pro- 
ductive power of the waters upon which the creative 
spirit of the Creator acted, in giving life and vege- 
tation to matter. We accordingly find it employed in 
every part of the northern hemisphere where sym- 
bolical religion, improperly called idolatry, existed." 
Further exemplification of the same underlying 
principle is seen in the fact that most all of the an- 



58 SERPENT-MYTHS AND WORSHIP 

cient deities were paired; thus we have heaven and 
earth, sun and moon, fire and earth, father and moth- 
er, etc. Faber says "The ancient pagans of almost 
every part of the globe were wont to symbolize the 
world by an egg, hence this symbol is introduced into 
the cosmogonies of nearly all nations, and there are 
few persons even among those who have made myth- 
ology their study to whom the mundane egg is not 
perfectly famliar; it is the emblem not only of earth 
and life but also of the universe in its largest extent." 
In the Island of Cyprus is still to be seen a gigantic 
egg-shaped vase which is supposed to represent the 
mundane or Orphic egg. It is of stone, measuring 
thirty feet in circumference, and has upon it a sculp- 
tured bull, the emblem of productive energy. It is 
supposed to signify the constellation of Taurus, whose 
rising was connected with the return of the mystic 
re-invigorating principle. 

The work of the Mound Builders in this country is 
generally and widely known, still it is perhaps not so 
generally known how common upon this continent 
was the general use of the serpent symbol. Their re- 
mains are spread over the country from the sources 
of the Allegheny in N. Y. state westward to Iowa and 
Nebraska, to a considerable extent through the Mis- 
sissippi Valley, and along the Susquehanna as far as 
the Valley of Wyoming in Pennsylvania. They are 
found even along the St. Lawrence River; they also 
line the shore of the Gulf from Florida to Texas. 
That they were erected for other than defensive pur- 



SERPENT-MYTHS AND WORSHIP 59 

poses is most clear; without knowing exactly what 
was the government of their builders the presump- 
tion is that it combined both the priestly and civil 
functions, as obtained centuries ago in Mexico. The 
Great Serpent Mound, already alluded to, had a 
length of at least 1,000 feet; the outline was per- 
fectly regular and the mouth was widely open as if 
in the act of swallowing or ejecting an oval figure, 
also formed of earth, whose longest diameter was one 
hundred and sixty feet. Again near Granville, Ohio, 
occurs the form of an alligator in connection with 
which was indubitable evidence of an altar. Near 
Tarlton, Ohio, is another earth work in the form of 
a cross. There is every reason to think that sacrifices 
were made upon the altars nearly always found in 
connection with these mounds. Among the various 
animal effigies found in Wisconsin, mounds in the 
form of a serpent are most frequently met with, while 
circles enclosing a pentagon, or a mound with eight 
radiating points, undoubtedly representing the sun, 
were also found. 

There would seem in all these representations to be 
an unmistakable reference to that form of early cos- 
mogony in which every vivification of the mundane 
egg constituted a real act of creation. In Japan this 
conceptive egg is allegorically represented by a nest- 
egg shown floating upon an expanse of water, against 
which a bulb is striking with horns. The Sandwich 
Islanders have a tradition that a bird, which with 
them is an emblem of deity, laid an egg upon the wa- 



6o SERPENT-MYTHS AND WORSHIP 

ters, which burst of itself and thus produced the Is- 
lands. In Egypt, Kneph was represented as a ser- 
pent emitting from his mouth an egg, from which pro- 
ceeds the divinity Phtha. In the Bible there is fre- 
quent reference to seraphs ; Se Ra Ph is the singular 
of seraphim, meaning, splendor, fire or light. It is 
emblematic of the fiery sun, which under the name of 
the Serpent Dragon was destroyed by the reformer 
Hezekiah; or, it means, also, the serpent with wings 
and feet, as used to be represented in funeral rituals. 

Undoubtedly Abraham brought with him from 
Chaldea into lower Egypt symbols of simple phallic 
deities. The reference in the Bible to the Teraphim 
of Jacobus family reminds us that Terah was the name 
of Abraham's father, and that he was a maker of 
images. Undoubtedly the Teraphim were the same 
as the Seraphim; that is, were serpent images and 
were the household charms of the Semitic worship- 
pers of the Sun-God, to whom the serpent was sacred. 
In Numbers, 21, the serpent symbol of the Exodus 
is called a seraph; moreover when the people were 
bitten by a fiery serpent Moses prayed for them, when 
Jehovah replied, "Make them a fiery serpent, (liter- 
ally seraph) and set it upon a pole, and it shall come 
to pass that every one who is bitten when he looketh 
upon it shall live." The exact significance of this 
healing figure of the serpent is far to seek. 

In this connection it must be remembered also, that 
among several of the Semitic tongues the same root 
signifies both serpent and phallus, which are both in 



SERPENT-MYTHS AND WORSHIP 6i 

effect solar emblems. Cronus of the ancient Orphic 
theogony, probably identical with Hercules, was rep- 
resented under the mixed emblem of a lion and a ser- 
pent, or often as a serpent alone. He was originally 
considered Supreme, as is shown from his being called 
II, which is the same as the Hebrew, El, which was, 
according to St. Jerome, one of the ten names of 
God. Damascius in his life of Isidorus mentions 
that Cronus was worshipped under the name of El. 
Brahm, Cronus and Kneph each represented the mys- 
tical union of the reciprocal or active and passive 
regenerative principles. 

The Semitic Deity, Seth, was certainly a serpent 
god, and can be identified with Saturn and with dei- 
ties of other people. The common name of God, 
Eloah, among the Hebrews and other Semites, goes 
back into the earliest times; indeed Bryant goes so 
far as to say that El was the original name of the 
Supreme deity among all the nations of the East. He 
was the same as Cronus, who again was the primeval 
Saturn. Thus Saturn and El were the same deity, and 
like Seth were symbolized by the serpent. 

On the western continent this great unity was 
equally recognized; in Mexico as Teotl, in Peru as 
Varicocha or the Soul of the Universe, in Central 
America and Yucatan as Stunah Ku, or God of Gods. 
The mundane egg was everywhere received as the 
symbol of the original, passive, unorganized formless 
nature, and later became associated with other sym- 
bols referring to the creative force or vitalizing in- 



62 SERPENT-MYTHS AND WORSHIP 

fluence, which was often represented in emblem by a 
bull. In the Aztec Pantheon all the other gods and 
goddesses were pratcically modified impersonations 
of these two principles. In the simpler mythology 
of Peru these principles took the form of the Sun, 
and the Moon his wife. Among the ruins of Uxmal 
are two long massive walls of stone thirty feet thick, 
whose inner sides are embellished with sculpture con- 
taining fragments of colossal entwined serpents which 
run the whole length of the walls ; in the center of the 
wall was a great stone ring. 

Among the annals of the Mexicans the woman 
whose name old Spanish writers translated "The wo- 
man of our Fish" is always represented as accom- 
panied by a great male serpent. This serpent is the 
Sun-God, the principal deity of the Mexican Pan- 
theon, while the name which they give to the god- 
dess mother of primitive man signifies "Woman of 
the Serpent." 

Inseparably connected with the serpent as a phallic 
emblem are also the pyramids, and, as is well known, 
pyramids abound in Mexico and Central America. 
As Humboldt years ago observed pyramids existed 
through Mexico, in the forests of Papantha at a short 
distance above sea-level; on the plains of Cholula 
and of Teotihuacan, and at an elevation which ex- 
ceeds those of the passes of the Alps. In most widely 
different nations, in climates most different, man seems 
to have adopted the same style of construction, the 
same ornaments, the same customs, and to have placed 



SERPENT-MYTHS AND WORSHIP 63 

himself under the government of the same political 
institutions. Mayer describing one of his trips says, 
"I constantly saw serpents In the city of Mexico, 
carved in stone and in the various collections of an- 
tiquities." The symbolic feathered serpent was by no 
means peculiar to Mexico and Yucatan. Squler en- 
countered It In Nicaragua on the summits of volcanic 
ridges; even among our historic Indian tribes, for 
example among the Lenni Lenape, they called the 
rattlesnake ^'grandfather," and made offerings of 
tobacco to It. Furthermore in most of the Indian 
traditions of the Manltou the great serpent figures 
most conspicuously. 

It has been often remarked that every feature of 
the religion of the new world discovered by Cortez 
and Pizarro indicates a common origin for the su- 
perstitions of both continents, for we have the same 
worship of the sun, the same pyramidal monuments, 
and the same universal veneration of the serpent. 
Thus it will be seen that the serpent symbol had a 
wide acceptance upon this continent as well as the 
other, and among the uncivilized and semi-barbaric 
races ; that it entered widely into all symbolic repre- 
sentation with an almost universal significance. Per- 
haps the latest evidences of the persistence of this be- 
lief may be seen in the tradition ascribing to St. Pat- 
rick, the credit of having driven all the serpents from 
Irish soil ; or in the perpetuation of rites, festivals and 
representations whose obsolete origin is now forgot- 
ten. For instance the annual May-day festival, scarce- 



I 



64 SERPENT-MYTHS AND WORSHIP 

ly yet discontinued, Is certainly of this origin, yet few 
If any of those who participate In It are aware that 
It Is only the perpetuation of the vernal solar festival 
of Baal, and that the garlanded May-pole was an- 
ciently a phallic emblem. Among men of my own 
craft the traditions of Aesculapius are familiar. 
Aesculapius Is, however. Inseparably connected with 
the serpent myth and in statues and pictures he is al- 
most always represented In connection with a serpent. 
Thus he Is seen with the Caduceus or the winged 
wand entwined by two serpents, or, sometimes with 
serpents' bodies wound around his own; but rarely 
ever without some serpent emblem. Moreover the 
Caduceus Is identical with the simple figure of the 
Cross by which its inventor, Thoth, is said to have 
symbolized the four elements proceeding from a com- 
mon center. In connection with the Cross it Is inter- 
esting also that In many places in the East serpent 
worship was not immediately destroyed by the advent 
of Christianity. The Gnostics for example, among 
Christian sects, united it with the religion of the 
Cross, as might be shown by many quotations from 
religious writers. The serpent clinging to the Cross 
was used as a symbol of Christ, and a form of Chris- 
tian serpent worship was for a long time in vogue 
among many beside the professed Ophites. In the 
celebration of the Bacchic mysteries the mystery of 
religion, as usual throughout the world, was concealed 
In a chest or box. The Israelites had their sacred 
Ark, and every nation has had some sacred receptacle 



SERPENT-MYTHS AND WORSHIP 6^ 

for holy things and symbols. The worshippers of 
Bacchus carried in their consecrated baskets the mys- 
tery of their God, while after their banquet it was 
usual to pass around the cup which was called "The 
Cup of the Good Daemon," whose symbol was a ser- 
pent. This was long before the institution of the 
rite of the Last Supper. The fable of the method by 
which the god Aesculapius was brought from Epi- 
daurus to Rome, and the serpentine form in which he 
appeared before his arrival in Rome for the purpose 
of checking the terrible pestilence, are well known. 
The serpentine column which still stands in the old 
race course in Constantinople is certainly a relic of 
serpent worship, though this fact was not appreciated 
by Constantine when he set it up. 

The significance of the Ark is not to be overlooked. 
First, Noah was directed to take with him into the 
Ark animals of every kind. But this historical ab- 
surdity, read aright and in its true phallic sense, means 
that the Ark was the sacred Argha of Hindoo myth- 
ology, which like the moon in Zoroastrian teachings, 
carries in itself the germ of all things. Read in this 
sense the thing is no longer incomprehensible. As 
En Arche (in the beginning) Elohim created the 
Heavens and the Earth, so in the Ark were the seeds 
of all things preserved that they might again repop- 
ulate the earth. Thus this Ark of Noah, or of Osiris, 
the primeval ship whose navigation has been ascribed 
to various mythological beings, was in fact the Moon 
or the Ship of the Sun, in which his seed is supposed 



66 SERPENT-MYTHS AND WORSHIP 

to be hidden until it bursts forth in new life and pow- 
er. But the dove which figures so conspicuously in 
the biblical legend was consecrated to Venus in all her 
different names, in Babylon, in Syria, in Palestine and 
in Greece; it even attended upon Janus in his Voy- 
age of the Golden Fleece. And so the story of Jonah 
going to Joppa, a seaport where Dagon, the Fish- 
God was worshipped, and of the great fish, bears a 
suspicious relation to the same cult, for the fish was 
revered at Joppa as was the dove at Nineveh. 

It has been impossible to dissociate serpent and 
serpent worship from Aesculapius. This is- not be- 
cause this mythological divinity is supposed to have 
been the founder of my profession, but because he has 
been given at all times a serpentine form and has 
been, apparently, on the most familiar terms with the 
animal. Pausanias, indeed, assures us that he often 
appeared in serpentine form, and the Roman citizens 
of two thousand years ago saw in this god "in 
reptilian form an object of high regard and wor- 
ship." When this divinity was invited to make Rome 
his home, in accordance with the oracle, he is repre- 
sented as saying: 

"I come to leave my shrine; 
This serpent view, that with ambitious play 
My staff encircles; mark him every way; 
His form though larger, nobler, I'll assume. 
And, changed as God's should be, bring aid to 
Rome." 

(Ovid: Metamorphosis XV). 



SERPENT-MYTHS AND WORSHIP 67 

When In due time this salutary serpent arrived upon 
the island In the Tiber he began to assume his nat- 
ural form, whatever that may have been; 

"And now no more the drooping city mourns, 
Joy is again restored and health returns." 

Considering then the intimate relation between 
the founder of medicine and the serpent It will not 
seem strange to you that the serpent myth Is a sub- 
ject of keen interest to every student of the history of 
medicine. 

This devotion to serpent worship appears to have 
lingered a long time in Italy, for so late as the year 
1 00 1 a bronze serpent on the baslllica of St. Ambrose 
was worshipped. De Gubernatis speaking of It says, 
"Some say It was the serpent Aesculapius, others 
Moses, others that It was the Image of Christ; for us 
it is enough to remark that It was a mythological ser- 
pent before which the Milanese mothers offered their 
children when they suffered from worms. In order to 
relieve them," a practice which was finally suppressed 
by San Carlo. Moreover, there has persisted until 
recently what is called a snake festival In a little 
mountain church near Naples, where those partici- 
pating carry snakes around their persons, the purpose 
of the festival being to preserve the participants from 
poison and sudden death and bring them good for- 
tune. (Sozlnskey). 

The power of the sun over health and disease was 



I 



68 SERPENT-MYTHS AND WORSHIP 

long ago recognized in the old Chaldean hymn in 
which the sun is petitioned thus: 

"Thou at thy coming cure the race of man; 
Cause the ray of health to shine upon him; 
Cure his disease." 

Probably some feeling akin to that voiced in this 
way gave rise to the following beautiful passage in 
Malachi (4:2) : 

"The Sun of Righteousness shall arise with healing 
in His wings." 

As a purely medical symbol the serpent is meant to 
symbolize prudence ; long ago men were enjoined to 
be "As wise as serpents" as well as harmless as doves. 
In India the serpent is still regarded as a symbol of 
every species of learning. It has also another med- 
ical meaning, namely, convalescence, for which there 
is afforded some ground in the remarkable change 
which it undergoes every spring from a state of leth- 
argy to one of active life. 

According to Ferguson, the experience of Moses 
and the Children of Israel with brazen serpents led 
to the first recorded worship paid to the serpent, 
which is also noteworthy, since the cause of this ador- 
ation is said to have been its intrinsic healing power. 
The prototype of the brazen serpent of Moses in lat- 
ter times was the Good Genius, the A gatho daemon of 



SERPENT-MYTHS AND WORSHIP 69 

the Greeks, which was regarded always with the 
greatest favor and usually accorded considerable pow- 
er over disease. 

The superstitious tendency to regard disease and 
death as the visitation of a more or less capricious 
act by some extra mundane power persists even to the 
present day. For example, in the Episcopal book of 
Common Prayer, it is stated, in the Order for the 
Visitation of the Sick, 'Wherefore, whatsoever your 
sickness be, know you certainly that it is God's visita- 
tion," while for relief the following sentiment is for- 
mulated in prayer, ''Lord look down from heaven, be- 
hold, visit and relieve these, thy servants," thus voic- 
ing the very ideas which were current among various 
peoples of remote antiquity and eliminating all pos- 
sibility of such a thing as the regulation of disease or 
of sanitary medicine. 



IV 

lATRQ-THEURGIC SYMBOLISM 

SO soon as had subsided the feeling of surprise, 
caused by a most unexpected invitation to ad- 
dress you to-night, I began at once to cast 
about for a subject with which I might en- 
deavor so to interest you as to justify the high and 
appreciated compliment which this invitation mutely 
conveyed. And so, after considerable reflection, it 
appeared to me that it was perhaps just as well that 
medical men should be entertained, even at such a 
gathering as this, by something which if not of the 
profession was at least for the profession, and still not 
too remote from the purposes which have drawn 
us together. Accordingly I decided to forsake the 
beaten path and. Instead of selecting a topic in path- 
ology or In surgery, upon which I could possibly speak 
with some familiarity, to invite your attention to a 
subject which has always been of the greatest interest 
to me, yet upon which it has been hard, without great 
labor and numerous books, to get much information. 
If I were to attempt to formulate this topic under a 
distinctive name I could perhaps call it Medico-Chris- 
tian Symbolism. It Is well known to scholars that 
practically all of the symbols and symbolism of Chris- 
tianity have come from pagan sources, having been 



An Address before the Maine Medical Association, Portland, 
June 2nd, 1898. 

70 



lATRO-THEURGIC SYMBOLISM 71 

carried over, as one might say, across the line of the 
Christian era, from one to the other, in the most 
natural and unavoidable way, although most of these 
symbols and caricatures have more or less lost their 
original signification and have been given another of 
purely Christian import. 

To acknowledge that this is so Is to cast no slur 
upon Christianity; it is simply recording an historical 
fact. It would take me too far from my purpose to- 
night were I to go Into the reasons which brought 
about this change; I simply want to disavow all in- 
tention of making light of serious things, or of re- 
flecting in any way upon the nobility of the Chris- 
tian Church, its meanings or Its present practices. 
But, accepting the historical fact that Christian sym- 
bols were originally pagan caricatures, I want to ask 
you to study with me for a little while the original 
signification of these pagan symbols, feeling that I 
can perhaps, interest you in such a study providing 
that it can be shown that almost all of these em- 
blems had originally an essentially medical signifi- 
cance, referring in some way or other either to ques- 
tions of health and disease, or else to the deeper ques- 
tion of the origin of mankind and the great genera- 
tive powers of nature, at which physicians to-day won- 
der as much as they did two thousand years ago. 
Considering then the medical significance of such 
study I have been tempted to Incur the charge of be- 
ing pedantic and have coined the term latro-Theurgic 
Symbolism, which title I shall give to the essay which 



it 



72 lATRO-THEURGIC SYMBOLISM 

I shall present to you to-night. 

As Inman says, "Moderns who have not been in- 
itiated in the sacred mysteries and only know the em- 
blems considered sacred, have need of both anatom- 
ical knowledge and physiological lore ere they can 
see the meaning of many signs." The emblems or 
symbols then, to which I shall particularly allude, are 
the Cross, the Tree and Grove, the Fish, the Dove, 
and the Serpent. And first of all the Cross, about 
which very erroneous notions prevail. It is seen 
everywhere either as a matter of personal or church 
adornment, or as an architectural feature, and every- 
where the impression prevails that it is exclusively a 
Christian symbol. This, however, is the grossest 
of errors, for the world abounds in cruciform sym- 
bols and monuments which existed long before Chris- 
tianity was thought of. It is otherwise however with 
the Crucifix which is, of course, an absolutely Chris- 
tian symbol. The image of a dead man stretched 
out upon the Cross is a purely Christian addition to 
a purely pagan emblem, though some of the old Hin- 
doo crosses remind one of it very powerfully. No 
matter upon which continent we look we see every- 
where the same cruciform sign among peoples and 
races most distinct. There perhaps has never been 
so universal a symbol, with the exception of the ser- 
pent. Moreover the cross is a sort of international 
feature, and is spoken of in its modifications as St. 
Andrew's, St. George's, the Maltese, the Greek, the 
Latin, etc. Probably because of its extreme simplic- 



lATRO-THEURGIC SYMBOLISM 73 

Ity the ages have brought but little change In Its shape, 
and the bauble of the jeweller of to-day Is practically 
the same sign that the ancient Egyptlah painted upon 
the mummy cloth of his sacred dead. Thus It will ap- 
pear that the shadow of the Cross was cast far back 
Into the night of ages. The Druids consecrated their 
sacred oak by cutting It Into the shape of a cross, and 
when the natural shape of the tree was not sufficient 
It was pieced out as the case required. When the 
Spaniards Invaded this continent they were overcome 
with surprise at finding the sign of the Cross every- 
where In common use. It was by the community of 
this emblem between the two peoples that the 
Spaniards enjoyed a less war-like reception than would 
otherwise have been accorded to them. 

That the Cross was originally a phallic emblem Is 
proven, among other things, by the origin of the so- 
called Maltese Cross, which originally was carved out 
of solid granite, and represented by four huge phalli 
springing from a common center, which were after- 
ward changed by the Knights of St. John of Malta in- 
to four triangles meeting at a central globe; thus we 
see combined the symbol of eternal and the emblem of 
constantly renovating life. The reason why the 
Maltese Cross had so distinctly a phallic origin, and 
why the Knights of St. John saw fit to make some- 
thing more decent of It, Is not clear, but a study of 
Assyrian antiquities of the days of Nineveh and 
Babylon shows that it referred to the four great gods 
of the Assyrian Pantheon, and that with a due set- 



74 lATRO-THEURGIC SYMBOLISM 

ting it signifies the sun ruling both the earth and heav- 
ens. Schliemann discovered many examples of it on 
the vases which he exhumed from the ruins of Troy. 

But probably the most remarkable of all crosses is 
that which is exceedingly common upon Egyptian 
monuments and is known as the Criix-Ansata, that 
is the handled cross, which consisted of the ordinary 
Greek Tau or cross, with a ring on the top. When 
the Egyptian was asked what he meant by this sign he 
simply replied that it was a divine mystery, and such 
it has largely remained ever since. It was constantly 
seen in the hands of Isis and Osiris. In nearly the 
same shape the Spaniards found it when they first 
came to this continent. The natives said that it meant 
*'Life to come." 

In the British Museum one may see, in the Assyrian 
galleries, effigies in stone of certain kings from whose 
necks are suspended sculptured Maltese crosses, such 
as the Catholics call the Pectoral Cross. In Egypt, 
long before Christ, the sacred Ibis was represented 
with human hands and feet, holding the staff of Isis 
in one hand and the Cross in the other. The ancient 
Egyptian astronomical signs of planets contained nu- 
merous crosses. Saturn was represented by a cross 
surmounting a ram's horn ; Jupiter by a cross beneath 
a horn, Venus by a cross beneath a circle (practically 
the Crux-Ansata ) , the Earth by a cross within the 
circle, and Mars by a circle beneath the cross ; many 
of these signs are in use to-day. Between the Budd- 
hist crosses of India and those of the Roman church 



lATRO-THEURGIC SYMBOLISM 75 

are remarkable resemblances; the former were fre- 
quently placed upon a Calvary as is the Catholic cus- 
tom to-day. The cross is found among the hiero- 
glyphics of China and upon Chinese pagodas, and 
upon the lamps with which they illuminated their tem- 
ples. Upon the ancient Phoenician medals were in- 
scribed the Cross, the Rosary and the Lamb. In 
England there has been for a long time the custom of 
eating the so-called Hot-Cross Buns upon Good Fri- 
day: — this is no more than a reproduction of a cake 
marked with a cross which used to be duly offered to 
the serpent and the bull in heathen temples, as also to 
human idols. It was made of flour and milk, or oil, 
and was often eaten with much ceremony by priests 
and people. 

Perhaps the most ancient of all forms of the cross 
is the cruciform hammer known sometimes as Thor's 
Battle Ax. In this form it was venerated by the 
heroes of the North as a magical sign, which thwart- 
ed the power of death over those who bore it. Even 
to-day it is employed by the women of India and cer- 
tain parts of Africa as indicating the possession of a 
taboo with which they protect their property. It has 
been stated that this was the mark which the prophet 
was commanded to impress upon the foreheads of the 
faithful in Judah. (Ezekiel 9:4). 

It is of interest also as being almost the last of the 
purely pagan symbols to be religiously preserved in 
Europe long after the establishment of Christianity, 
since to the close of the Middle Ages the Cistercean 



76 lATRO-THEURGIC SYMBOLISM 

monk wore it upon his stole. It may be seen upon 
the bells of many parish churches, where it was placed 
as a magical sign to subdue the vicious spirit of the 
tempest. 

The original cross, no matter what its form, had 
but one meaning; it represented creative power and 
eternity. In Egypt, Assyria and Britain, in India, 
China and Scandinavia, it was an emblem of life and 
immortality; upon this continent it was the sign of 
freedom from suffering, and everywhere it sym- 
bolized resurrection and life to come. Moreover 
from its common combination with the yoni or fe- 
male emblem, we may conclude, with Inman, that the 
ancient Cross was an emblem of the belief in a male 
Creator and the method by which creation was in- 
itiated. 

Next to the Cross, the Tree of Life of the Eg)rp- 
tians furnishes perhaps the most ancient and univer- 
sal symbol of immortality. The tree is probably the 
most generally received symbol of life, and has been 
regarded as the most appropriate. The fig tree espe- 
cially has had the highest place in this regard. From 
it gods and holy men ascended to heaven; before it 
thousands of barren women have worshipped and 
made offerings ; under it pious hermits have become 
enlightened, and by rubbing together fragments of its 
wood, holy fire has been drawn from heaven. 

An anonymous Catholic writer has stated, "No re- 
ligion is founded upon international depravity. Search- 
ing back for the origin of life, men stopped at the 



lATRO-THEURGIC SYMBOLISM 77 

earliest point to which they could trace it and exalted 
the reproductive organs in the symbols of the Cre- 
ator. The practice was at least calculated to pro- 
cure respect for a side of nature liable, under an ex- 
clusively spiritual regime, to be relegated to undue 
contempt. * * * Even Moses himself fell back 
upon it when, yielding to a pressing emergency, he 
gave his sanction to serpent worship by his elevation 
of the brazen serpent upon a pole or cross, for all 
portions of this structure constituted the most univer- 
sally accepted symbol of sex in the world." 

As perfectly consistent with the ancient doctrine 
that deity is both male and female take this thought 
from Proclus, who quotes the following among other 
Orphic verses : 

*'Jupiter is a man; Jupiter is also an immortal 
maid;" while in the same commentary we read that 
"All things were contained in the womb of Jupiter." 

In this connection it was quite customary to depict 
Jupiter as a female, sometimes with three heads; 
often the figure was drawn with a serpent and was 
venerated under the symbol of fire. It was then 
called Mythra and was worshipped in secret caverns. 
The rites of this worship were quite well known to 
the Romans. 

The hermaphrodite element of religion is sex wor- 
ship ; gods are styled he — she ; Synesius gives an in- 
scription on an Egyptian deity, "Thou art the father 
and thou art the mother; thou art the male and thou 
art the female." Baal was of uncertain sex and his 



78 lATRO-THEURGIC SYMBOLISM 

votaries usually invoked him thus, "Hear us whether 
thou art god or goddess." Heathens seem to have 
made their gods hermaphrodites in order to express 
both the generative and prolific virtue of their deities. 
I have myself heard one of the finest living Hindoo 
scholars, a convert to Christianity, invoke the God 
of the Christian Church both as father and as mother. 
The most significant and distinctive feature of na- 
ture worship certainly had to do with phallic em- 
blems. This viewed in the light of ancient times 
simply represented allegorically that mysterious union 
of the male and female principle which seems neces- 
sary to the existence of animate beings. If, in the 
course of time, it sadly degenerated, we may lament 
the fact, while, nevertheless, not losing sight of the 
purity and exalted character of the original idea. Of 
its extensive prevalence there is ample evidence, since 
monuments indicating such worship are spread over 
both continents and have been recognized in Egypt, 
India, Assyria, Western Europe, Mexico, Peru, Hayti 
and the Pacific Islands. Without doubt the genera- 
tive act was originally considered as a solemn sacra- 
ment in honor of the Creator. As Knight has In- 
sisted, the indecent Ideas later attached to it, para- 
doxical as It may seem, were the result of the more 
advanced civilization tending toward Its decline, as 
we see In Rome and Pompeii. Voltaire speaking of 
phallic worship says "Our Ideas of propriety lead us 
to suppose that a ceremony which appears to us so 
infamous could only be invented by licentiousness, but 



lATRO-THEURGIC SYMBOLISM 79 

it is impossible to believe that depravity of manners 
would ever lead among any people to the establish- 
ment of religious ceremonies. It Is probable, on the 
contrary, that this custom was first Introduced In 
times of simplicity, and that the first thought was to 
honor a deity In the symbol of life which It gives us." 

The so-called Jewish rite of circumcision was prac- 
ticed among Egyptians and Phoenicians long before 
the birth of Abraham. It had a marked religious sig- 
nificance, being a sign of the Covenant, and was a 
patriarchal observance because It was always per- 
formed by the head of the family. Indeed on the au- 
thority of the Veda, we learn that this was the case 
also even among the primitive Aryan people. 

Later In the centuries, as Patterson has observed, 
obscene methods became the principal feature of the 
popular superstition and were, in after times, even 
extended to and Intermingled with gloomy rites and 
bloody sacrifices. The mysteries of Ceres and Bac- 
chus celebrated at Eleusls were probably the most 
celebrated of all the Grecian observances. The ad- 
dition of Bacchus was comparatively a late one, and 
this name Bacchus was first spelled lacchos; the first 
half, lao, being In all probability related to Jao which 
appears in Jupiter or Jovispater, and to the Hebrew 
Yahve, or Jehovah. Jao was the Harvest God and 
consequently the god of the grape, hence his close 
relation to Bacchus. How completely these Eluslnian 
mysteries degenerated into Bacchic orgies is of course 
a matter of written history. 



k 



8o lATRO-THEURGIC SYMBOLISM 

I have not yet alluded to the reverence paid to the 
fish, both as phallic emblem and as a Christian sym- 
bol. The supposition that the reason why the fish 
played so large a part in early Christian symbolism 
was because of the fact that each letter of the Greek 
word Ichthus could be made the beginning of words 
which when fully spelled out, read Jesus Christ, the 
Son of God, etc., is altogether too far-fetched; though 
it be true it is a scholastic trick to juggle with words 
in this way rather than to find for them a proper 
signification. 

Among the Egyptians and many other nations, the 
greatest reverence was paid to this animal. Among 
the natives the rivers which contained them were es- 
teemed more or less sacred; the common people did 
not feed upon them and the priests never tasted them, 
because of their reputed sanctity, while at times they 
were worshipped as real deities. Cities were named 
after them and temples built to them. In different 
parts of Egypt different fish were worshipped in- 
dividually; the Greek comedians even made fun of 
the Egyptians because of this fact. Dagon figures as 
the Fish-god, and the female deity known as Athor, 
in Egypt, is undoubtedly the same as Aphrodite of the 
Greeks and Venus of the Romans, who were believed 
to have sprung from the sea. Lucian tells us that 
this worship was of great antiquity; strange as this 
idolatry may appear, it was yet most wide-spread and 
included also the veneration which the Egyptians, be- 
fore Moses, paid to the river Nile. 



lATRO-THEURGIC SYMBOLISM 8i 

It IS Important to remember that Nun, the name 
of the father of Joshua, is the Semitic word for fish, 
while the phallic character of the fish in Chaldean 
mythology cannot be gainsaid. Nim, the planet Sa- 
turn, was the fish-god of Berosus, and the same as the 
Assyrian god Asshur, whose name and office are 
strikingly similar to those of the Hebrew leader 
Joshua. 

Corresponding to the ancient phallus or lingam, 
which was the masculine phallic symbol, we have the 
Kteis or Yoni as the symbol of the female principle; 
but an emblem of similar import is often to be met 
with in the shape of the shell, the fig leaf or the letter 
delta, as may be frequently seen from ancient coins 
and monuments. Similar attributes were at other 
times expressed by a bird, using the dove or sparrow, 
which will at once make one think of the prominence 
given to the dove in the fable of Noah and the Ark. 
Referring again to the fish symbol let me say that the 
head of Proserpine is very often represented sur- 
rounded by dolphins; sometimes by pomegranates 
which also have a phallic significance. In fact, Inman 
in his work on Ancient Faiths says of the pome- 
granate, "The shape of this fruit much resembles that 
of the gravid uterus in the female, and the abundance 
of seeds which it contains makes it a fitting emblem 
of the prolific womb of the celestial mother. Its use 
was largely adopted in various forms of worship ; it 
was united with bells in the adornment of the robes 
of the Jewish High Priest; It was Introduced as an 



82 lATRO-THEURGIC SYMBOLISM 

ornament into Solomon's Temple, where it was united 
with lilies and with the lotus." 

Its arcane meaning is undoubtedly phallic. In fact, 
as Inman has stated, the idea of virility was most 
closely interwoven with religion, though the English 
Egyptologists have suppressed a portion of the facts 
in the history which they have given the world ; but 
the practice which still obtains among certain Ne- 
groes of Northern Africa of mutilating every male 
captive and slain enemy is but a continuance of the 
practice alluded to in the 2nd Book of Kings, 20:18, 
Isaiah, 39:17, and ist Samuel 18:26. 

Frequently in sacred Scripture we find allusions to 
the Pillar as a most sacred emblem, as for example 
in Isaiah 19-19, "In that day there shall be an altar 
to the Lord in the midst of the land of Egypt and a 
pillar to the border thereof to Jehovah," etc. More- 
over God was supposed to have appeared to his chos- 
en people as a pillar of fire. Nevertheless when among 
idolatrous nations pillars were set up as a part of 
their rites we find them noticed in Scripture as an 
abomination, as for example, Deut. 12:3, "Ye shall 
overthrow their altars and break their pillars;" Levit. 
26:1, "Neither rear ye up a standing image." 

Among the Jews the pillar had much the same sig- 
nificance as the pyramid among the Egyptians or the 
triangle or cone among votaries of other worships. 
The Tower of Babel must have been purely a myth- 
ical creation but in the same direction. Although 
Abraham is regarded as having emigrated from Chal- 



lATRO-THEURGIC SYMBOLISM 83 

dea in the character of a dissenter from the religion 
of his country (see Joshua 24:2-3), his immediate 
descendants apparently had recourse to the symbols to 
which I have alluded. Thus he erected altars and 
planted pillars wherever he resided, and conducted his 
son to the land of Moriah to sacrifice him to the deity, 
as was done among the Phoenicians. Jeptha in like 
manner sacrificed his own daughter Mizpeh, and the 
temple of Solomon was supposed to have been built 
upon the site of Abraham's ancient altar. Jacob not 
only set up a pillar at the place which he called Bethel 
but made libations ; Samuel worshipped at the High 
Places at Ramah, and Solomon at the Great Stone in 
Gibeon. It remained for Hezekiah to change the en- 
tire Hebrew cult. He removed the Dionysiac statues 
and phallic pillars as well as the conical and omphal- 
ic symbols of Venus and Ashtaroth, broke in pieces 
the brazen serpent of Moses and overthrew the 
mounds and altars. After him Josiah removed the 
paraphernalia of sun worship and destroyed the 
statues and emblems of Venus and Adonis, (2nd 
Kings, 23:4-20). 

The Greek Hermes was identical with the Egyp- 
tian Khem, as well as with Mercury and with Priapus, 
also with the Hebrew Eloah; thus when Jacob en- 
tered into a covenant with Laban his father-in-law, a 
pillar was set up and a heap of stones made and a 
certain compact entered into ; similar land marks were 
usual with the Greeks and placed by them upon pub- 
lic roads. 



84 lATRO-THEURGIC SYMBOLISM 

As Mrs. Childs has beautifully said, "Other em- 
blems deemed sacred by Hindoos and worshipped in 
their temples have brought upon them the charge of 
gross indecencies. * * * j£ jjgj^^ ^j^j^ j^-g gr^nd 
revealings, and heat, making the earth fruitful with 
beauty, excited wonder and worship among the first 
inhabitants of our world, is it strange that they like- 
wise regarded with reverence the great mystery of 
human birth? Were they impure thus to regard it? 
Or are we impure that we do not so regard it?" 

Constant, in his work on Roman Polytheism says, 
"Indecent rites may be practiced by religious people 
with the greatest purity of heart, but when incredulity 
has gained a footing among these peoples then those 
rites become the cause and pretext of the most re- 
volting corruption." 

The phallic symbol was always found in temples of 
Siva, who corresponds to Baal, and was usually placed 
as are the most precious emblems of our Christian 
temples to-day, in some inmost recess of the sanctu- 
ary. Moreover lamps with seven branches were 
kept burning before it, these seven branched lamps 
long antedating the golden candlestick of the Mosaic 
Tabernacle. The Jews by no means escaped the ob- 
jective evidence of phallic worship ; in Ezekiel 16:17, 
is a very marked allusion to the manufacture by Jew- 
ish women of gold and silver phalli. 

As a purely phallic symbol and custom mark the 
significance of certain superstitions and practices even 
now prevalent in Great Britain. Thus in Boylase's 



lATRO-THEURGIC SYMBOLISM 85 

History of Cornwall it is stated that there is a stone 
in the Parish of Mardon, with a hole in it fourteen 
inches in diameter, through which many persons creep 
for the relief of pains in the back and limbs, and 
through which children are drawn to cure them of 
rickets, this being a practical application of the doc- 
trine of regeneration. In 1888 there was printed in 
the London Standard 3. considerable reference to pass- 
ing children through clefts in trees as a curative meas- 
ure for certain physical ailments. The same practice 
prevails in Brazil and in many other places, and with- 
in the present generation it has been customary to split 
a young ash tree and, opening this, pass through it a 
child for the purpose of curing rupture or some other 
bodily ailment. 

The phallic element most certainly cannot be de- 
nied in Christianity itself, since in it are many refer- 
ences which to the initiated are unmistakable. From 
the fall of man with its serpent myth and its phallic 
foundation to the peculiar position assigned to the 
Virgin Mary as a mother, phallic references abound. 
However, it should not be forgotten that whatever 
were the primitive ideas on which these dogmas were 
based, they had been lost sight of or had been re- 
ceived in a fresh aspect by the founders of Chris- 
tianity. The fish and the cross originally typified the 
idea of generation and later that of life, in which 
sense they were applied to Christ. The most plainly 
phallic representation used in early Christian Iconog- 
raphy, is undoubtedly the Aureole or elliptical frame 



86 lATRO-THEURGIC SYMBOLISM 

work, containing usually the figure of Christ, some- 
times that of Mary. The Nimbus also, generally cir- 
cular but sometimes triangular, is of positive phallic 
significance, even though it contain within it the 
name of Jehovah. The sun flowers which sometimes 
are made to surround the figure of St. John the Evan- 
gelist are the lotus flowers of the Egyptians. The di- 
vine hand with the thumb and two fingers out- 
stretched, even though it rests on a cruciform nim- 
bus, is a phallic emblem, and is used by the Neapoli- 
tans of to-day to avert the Evil Eye, although it was 
originally a symbol of Isis. Indeed the Virgin Mary 
is the ancient Isis, as can be most easily established, 
since the virgin "Succeeded to her form, titles, sym- 
bols, rites and ceremonies." (King). The great 
image still .moves in procession as when Juvenal 
laughed at it, and her proper title is the exact trans- 
lation of the Sanskrit and the equivalent of the mod- 
ern Madonna, the Lotus of Isis, and the Lily of the 
modern Mary. Indeed, as King has written, "It is 
astonishing how much of the Egyptian symbolism 
passed over into usages of the following times." The 
high cap and hooked staff of the god became the bish- 
op's mitre and crozier. The term Nun is purely 
Egyptian and bore its present meaning. The Crux 
Ansata, testifying the union of the male and fe- 
male principle in the most obvious manner, and de- 
noting fecundity and abundance, is transformed by a 
simple inversion into an orb surmounted by a cross^ 
the ensign of royalty. 



lATRO-THEURGIC SYMBOLISM 87 

The teaching of the Church of Rome regarding the 
Virgin Mary shows a remarkable resemblance to the 
teachings of the ancients concerning the female as- 
sociate of the triune deity. In ancient times she has 
passed under many and diverse names; she was the 
Virgin, conceiving and bringing forth from her own 
inherent power; she was the wife of Nimrod; she 
has been known as Athor, Artemis, Aphrodite, Venus, 
Isis, Cybele, etc. 

As Anaitis she is Mother and Child, appearing 
again as Isis and Horus; even in ancient Mexico 
Mother and Child were worshipped. In modern times 
she reappears as the Virgin Mary and her Son; she 
was queen of fecundity, queen of the gods, goddess 
of war, Virgin of the Zodiac, the mysterious Virgin 
*'Time" from whose womb all things were born. Al- 
though variously represented she has been usually pic- 
tured as a more or less nude figure carrying an infant 
in her arms. (Inman, "Ancient Faiths"). 

Inman declares without hesitation that the trinity 
of the ancients is unquestionably of phallic origin, 
and others have strenuously contended and apparently 
proven that the male emblem of generation in divine 
creation was three in one, and that the female em- 
blem has always been the triangle or accepted symbol 
of trinity. Sometimes two triangles have been com- 
bined forming a six-rayed star, the two together being 
emblematical of the union of the male and female 
principles producing a new figure ; the triangle by it- 
self with the point down typifies the delta or yoni 



88 lATRO-THEURGIC SYMBOLISM 

through which all things come into the world. 

Another symbol of deity among the Indians was 
the Trident, and this marks the belief in the Trinity 
which very generally prevailed in India among the 
Hindoos. As Maurice says, "It was indeed highly 
proper and strictly characteristic that a three-fold 
deity should wield a triple scepter." Upon the top of 
the immense pyramids of Deoghur, which were trun- 
cated, and upon whose upper surface rested the circu- 
lar cone — that ancient emblem of the Phallus and of 
the Sun, was found the trident scepter of the Greek 
Neptune. It is said that in India is to be found the 
most ancient form of Trinitarian worship. In Egypt 
it later prevailed widely, but scarcely any two states 
worshipped the same triad, though all triads had this 
in common at least that they were father, mother 
and son, or male and female with their progeny. In 
the course of time, however, the worship of the first 
person was lost or absorbed in the second and the 
same thing is prevalent among the Christians of to- 
day, for many churches and institutions are dedicated 
to the second or third persons of the Trinity but none 
to the first. 

The transition from the old to the new could not 
be effected in a short time and must have been an ex- 
ceedingly slow process, therefore we need not be sur- 
prised to be told of the ancient worship that after its 
exclusion from larger places it was maintained for a 
long time by the inhabitants of humbl'er localities; 
hence its subsequent designation, since from being 



lATRO-THEURGIC SYMBOLISM 89 

kept up in the villages, the pagi, its votaries, were 
designated pagani, or pagans. 

Even now some of these ancient superstitions re- 
main in recognizable form. The moon is supposed 
to exert a baneful or lucky influence according as it is 
first viewed ; the mystic horse-shoe, which is a purely 
uterine symbol, is still widely employed; lucky and 
unlucky days are still regarded; our playing cards 
are indicated by phallic symbols, the spade, the tria- 
dlc club, the omphalllc distaff and eminence disguised 
as the heart and the diamonds. Dionysius reappears 
as St. Denys, or in France as St. Bacchus; Satan is 
revered as St. Satur or St. Swithin ; the Holy Virgin, 
Astraea, whose return was heralded by Virgil as in- 
troducing the Golden Age, is now designated as the 
Blessed Virgin, Queen of Heaven. The Mother and 
Child are to-day in Catholic countries adored as much 
as were Ceres and Bacchus, or Isis and the infant 
Horus, centuries ago. The nuns of Christian to-day 
are the nuns of the Buddhists or of the Egyptian 
worshippers of Isis, and the phallic import is not 
lost even In their case since they are the "Brides of 
the Savior." The libations of human blood which 
were formerly offered to Bacchus found most tragic 
imitation in the sacrifices of later days. The screech- 
ings of the ancient prophets of Baal, and of the Egyp- 
tian worshippers, preceded the flagellations of the 
penltentes. Even recently, during Holy Week in 
Rome, devotees lash themselves until the blood runs, 
as did the young men in ancient Rome during the 



90 lATRO-THEURGIC SYMBOLISM 

Lupercalia. And even yet in New Mexico the Indian 
penitentes repeat the cruel flagellations and cross- 
bearing taught by the Spanish priest, to the extent — 
sometimes — of an actual crucifixion. In the ancient 
Roman catacombs are found portraits of the utensils 
and furniture of the ancient mysteries, and one draw- 
ing shows a woman standing before an altar offering 
buns to a certain god. In fact we may say there is no 
Christian fast nor festival, procession nor sacrament, 
custom nor example, that do not come quite naturally 
from previous paganism. 

The Creation is in fact a human rather than a di- 
vine product, in this sense that it was suggested to the 
mind of man by the existence of things, while its 
method was, at least at first, suggested by the opera- 
tions of nature ; thus man saw the living bird emerge 
from the egg, after a certain period of incubation, a 
phenomenon equivalent to actual creation as appre- 
hended by his simple mind. Incubation obviously 
then associated itself with Creation, and this fact 
will explain the universality with which the egg was 
received as a symbol in the earlier systems of cosmog- 
ony. By a similar process creation came to be sym- 
bolized in the form of a phallus, and so the Egyp- 
tians, in their refinement of these ideas, adopted as 
their symbol of the first great cause, a Scarabaeus, in- 
dicating the great hermaphroditic unity since they 
believed this insect to be both male and female. 

Further exemplification of the same underlying 
principle is seen in the fact that most all of the ancient 



lATRO-THEURGIC SYMBOLISM 91 

deities were paired, thus we have heaven and earth, 
sun and moon, fire and earth, father and mother, etc. 
Faber says, — "The Ancient Pagans of almost every 
part of the globe were wont to symbolize the world 
by an egg; hence this symbol Is Introduced Into the 
cosmogonies of nearly all nations, and there are few 
persons even among those who have made mythology 
their study to whom the mundane egg is not perfectly 
familiar; It is the emblem not only of earth and life 
but also of the universe in its largest extent." 

I began this essay with the Intention of demonstrat- 
ing the recondite but positive connection between the 
symbolism of the Church of to-day and the phallic 
and latric cults of pre-christian centuries. (Much of 
the subject matter contained in the previous essay 
(III) may be profitably read in this connection) . As 
a humble disciple of that Aesculapius who was the re- 
puted founder of our craft, I have felt that every gen- 
uine scholar in medicine should be familiar with these 
relations between the past and the present. 



THE RELATION OF THE GRECIAN MYS- 

TERIES TO THE FOUNDATION OF 

CHRISTIANITY 

EVER since mentality has been an attribute 
of mankind, man has appreciated that he 
is surrounded by a vast incomprehensible 
mystery which ever closes in upon him, and 
from whose environment he may never free himself. 
The endeavor to solve this mystery has on one hand 
stimulated his reasoning power, and on the other 
nearly paralyzed it. Having no better guidance 
he has in all time attributed to a Great First Cause 
powers and faculties, even shape and form, more or 
less human; thus from time immemorial God or the 
Gods have been given a kingdom, a throne, some def- 
inite form, and even offspring. To him or them have 
been given purely human attributes, and they have 
been supposed to possess human passions and to be 
capable of love, wrath, strength, etc. In nearly all 
ages lightning, for instance, has been regarded as an 
expression of divine fury. As intelligence advanced 
the number of Gods was reduced and their manifes- 
tations classified and studied more or less imagina- 
tively; and so while men have always acknowledged 
the impossibility of explaining the great mysteries of 
creation and of space, they have seemed to find it 

92 



FOUNDATION OF CHRISTIANITY 93 

necessary to create other equally Inscrutable mysteries 
of purely human invention, such as the incarnation, 
the trinity, the resurrection, vicarious salvation, 
metempsychosis, and the like. 

History shows the love of mystery to be contagious 
as well as productive of its kind, and the origin of 
mystic teachings as well as of most secret societies 
bears out these statements. Secrets, guarded by fear- 
ful oaths, personified by meaningless emblems, con- 
cealed either in language unintelligible to others, or 
else hidden in terms whose special meaning is known 
only to the initiated, made attractive by special signs, 
symbols, innocent rites, or barbarous observances, — 
all of these means were designed solely to keep men 
banded together for the purpose of forming a propa- 
ganda intended to perpetuate yet other mysteries in 
which the initiates were especially interested. Since 
history began such associations of men have existed 
for most diverse ends, all having this in common, that 
only by this means could they secure and maintain 
influence and power. 

And so the series of pictures which represent man 
in this role may be regarded as a panorama, led by 
garlanded priests carrying images of Isis or droning 
hymns to Demeter of Eleusis, or Druids preparing 
for their human sacrifices ; followed by gay and volup- 
tuous Bacchantes, succeeded by white-robed Pythago- 
reans; next may come the suffering Essenes bear- 
ing crosses, then the Latin Brotherhoods, followed by 
the German and English Guilds, the Stone Masons 



i 



94 FOUNDATION OF CHRISTIANITY 

with their implements, the Crusader Knights, those 
coming first having an appearance of actual humility 
and devotion, while those who follow are haughty 
and contemptuous to a degree. Then would follow 
the black-robed Penitentes and the members of the So- 
ciety of Jesus, sanctimonious, with eyes cast down, hu- 
man machines, mere tools in the hands of their su- 
periors; the panorama continuing with a widely as- 
sorted lot of scholars, artisans and men of all condi- 
tions in various regalia, and terminated with an in- 
distinguishable multitude of variously adorned men, 
some sleek and fat, others ill-conditioned, some de- 
vout and sincere, others mere jesters and knaves from 
every walk of life. 

It was most natural and to be expected that primi- 
tive man should be most profoundly impressed with 
the forces of nature, often terrifying and frightful, 
often winsome and attractive, and that he should bow 
himself down to the unknown cause of these manifes- 
tations. With his extremely finite mind he necessarily 
personified them; after having done this he pro- 
ceeded to propitiate them by worship with certain 
forms of ritual. Perhaps fire first and most of all 
attracted him in this way, and drew from him the 
earliest acts of worship, for in spite of the general 
views to the contrary fire is often of natural origin, 
and must have been known to men before they be- 
came able to produce it by their own efforts. From 
practical to generalized concepts was a natural step, 
and thus mythology had its beginnings; the earliest 



FOUNDATION OF CHRISTIANITY 95 

distinctions were as between that which is overhead, 
i. e. Heaven, and that which is beneath, namely, the 
earth; these are the beginnings of all cosmogonies. 
Next the Gods were given the attributes of sex ; Heav- 
en was represented as masculine, fructifying, powerful; 
Earth as conceptive, female and gentle. By the union 
of these two were produced sun, moon and their 
progeny — the stars. Later the sun became Poseidon 
or Neptune, because he appeared from and disap- 
peared into the sea. Then the imagination began to 
run riot, and gave rise to many individual divinities, 
gods and goddesses, all with human passions and 
attributes, mingling and propagating after human 
fashion, and begetting dynasties and half human 
races, whose doings were the subject of countless epics, 
dramas, myths and romances. 

Thus time passed on and the original sense or mean- 
ing of these myths, descending slowly by oral tradi- 
tion, became lost^, while the myths themselves were 
for a long time accepted as historical facts. Never- 
theless in all ages there have been men who, like Aris- 
totle, Cicero and Plutarch, have questioned the ac- 
curacy of these statements and shown themselves in- 
telligent and active sceptics. During all these times, 
however, a wily priest-craft had lived and thrived on 
the superstitions of the common people and the prac- 
tices in which they have indulged ; by these men, thus 
conditioned, any active doubt was regarded as subser- 
sive of the system by which they were supported, and 
as one not to be tolerated ; — this condition pertaining 



96 FOUNDATION OF CHRISTIANITY 

not only to antiquity, since it is too significant a fea- 
ture even of the early years of this twentieth century. 
A more or less honest though misinformed priesthood 
has, in all times, been in favor of the purification of 
the theology in vogue in their times and among their 
inner circles, and has in the main given the most 
rationalistic interpretation to the obscure things which 
they taught, and practised what their education and 
environment would permit. But in order to preserve 
the mysteries, to maintain them as such, and save 
themselves from becoming superfluous, not to say in- 
tolerable, these same mysteries have been tricked out 
with mysticism, symbolism of the most fantastic char- 
acter, and allegory of the most bewildering kind; 
moreover this has often been accomplished by dra- 
matic representations and by moralizing or demoraliz- 
ing ceremonies. The countries in which these "mys- 
teries," as they have since been known, were most 
commonly practised and most widely believed were 
Egypt, Chaldea and Greece. 

The sources of the Egyptian mysteries, like those 
of Egyptian civilization, are the most difficult to dis- 
cover. The Nile is necessarily the basis of Egyptian 
history, geography, activity and habits, and conse- 
quently must be also of the Egyptian cult. The peo- 
ple who were known as Egyptians invaded the land of 
the Nile from the direction of Asia, and found there 
a race of negro type whom they subdued and with 
whom they later mingled. The Semites called the 
land Misraim; the Greeks finally changed the name 



FOUNDATION OF CHRISTIANITY 97 

of its great river to Neilos. The country is a land 
of enigmas. Who built those pyramids, and why? 
Who originated the system of pictorial writing which 
we call the hieroglyphic? Who planned those won- 
derful temples now either in ruins, as in upper Egypt, 
or buried beneath the desert sands, as in lower Egypt ? 
Who brought and erected those mighty blocks of 
stone or massive slabs from enormous distances, and 
handled them as we could scarcely do to-day with the 
best of modern machinery? 

In course of time two hereditary classes were 
formed, the priests who dominated the minds, and the 
warriors who controlled the bodies of the conquered 
people and the lower classes. The latter kept the 
throne of Egypt occupied, while the former, having 
a monopoly of the knowledge of the time, prescribed 
for the people what they must believe, yet were very 
far from accepting these precepts for themselves, and 
in their inner circles made light of that which they 
preached to the despised classes without. 

The Egyptians named their Sun God RE, but as- 
signed the various attributes of the sun to different 
personalities; they had moreover not only Gods for 
the whole land, but Ptah was God of Memphis, Am- 
mon God of Thebes, etc. Local deities were often 
constructed out of inspiring objects or from animals 
inhabited by spirits, and thus the fetichism of the 
original negro race exerted no little influence upon the 
higher cult of their lighter colored conquerors. Wor- 
ship was paid to animals not for their own sake but 



98 FOUNDATION OF CHRISTIANITY 

because of the Gods who were supposed to reside 
within them; thus their prominent Gods were rep- 
resented with the head of some animal. This honor 
belonged not to any individual animal but of neces- 
sity to the entire species, certain representatives of 
which were maintained at public expense in the tem- 
ples, where they were carefully guarded and waited 
upon by the faithful. To harm one of these animals 
was to be severely punished, to kill one of them was 
to die. Conversely when a God failed in responding 
to the prayers of the faithful his fetich had to suf- 
fer, and the priests first threatened the animal, and if 
menaces were unavailing they killed the sacred beast, 
albeit in secret, lest the people should learn of it. 

As time went on there was less of zoolatry, and 
the Sun-Gods and their associates figured more large- 
ly among the cult of the people. The sun's course 
was not represented as that of a chariot, as among 
the Persians and Greeks, but rather as the voyage of 
a Nile boat, upon which the God Re navigated the 
heavens ; from which it will appear that the priestly 
religion was making slow progress to monotheism by 
means of oligotheism. The secret teaching of the 
priests was now more and more to the effect that the 
Gods stood not so much for themselves as for some- 
thing else. During the fourth dynasty the lower 
Egyptian city Anu was known as the City of the Sun, 
hence the Greek name for the place, Heliopolis. Still 
more characteristic was the giving of the name of 
Osiris, who figured as God of Abdu, which the Greeks 



FOUNDATION OF CHRISTIANITY 99 

called Abydos, in upper Egypt, to the God of the 
Sunset, who was king of the lower domains and of 
death, brother and at the same time husband of Isis, 
brother also of Set, who slew him, and father of 
Horus, i. e. God of the new sun, who figures after 
each sunset. Horus fought with Set, but being unable 
to completely destroy him left him the desert as his 
kingdom, while himself holding to the Nile valley. 
This story of the Gods was publicly represented in 
various scenes on certain holidays, but only the priests, 
i. e., the initiated, knew the real meaning of the 
representations. Even the name of Osiris and his 
abode were kept secret, and outsiders heard only of 
the "great God" dwelling somewhere in "the West." 

These were the most famous of all the old Egyp- 
tian mysteries, though to them were added many oth- 
ers, including that of Apis, the sacred bull of Mem- 
phis, who served also as the symbol of the Sun and 
of the fructifying Nile; beneath his tongue was to 
be seen the sacred beetle, and the behavior of the great 
animal was supposed to be prophetic and his actions 
to mean oracular sayings. The Sphinx again was a 
sun-God, his image being repeated throughout the 
Nile region, and was always thought of as a male; 
the head was represented as that of some king, while 
the whole figure stood for the Sun-God Harmachls; 
although the sphinx later introduced into Greece was 
always female. 

While the Egyptians did not attribute to their nu- 
merous Gods divine perfection, they nevertheless re- 



loo FOUNDATION OF CHRISTIANITY 

garded religious practices as a means of currying fa- 
vor with their divinities, a custom apparently still in 
favor. The priests believed in a Sun-God as the only 
true deity, but not so the people; thus the priests in 
the various cities praised their local and tutelary God 
as supreme and made him identical with Re, whose 
name they appended to the original, as for instance 
Amon-Re. The king, no matter where he was, prayed 
always to the local deity as lord of heaven and earth, 
yet In words always the same. 

At last during the eighteenth dynasty, about 1460 
B. C, Amenhotep IV realized that the power of the 
priesthood was a menace to the crown and therefore 
proclaimed the Sun as the sole God, not in human 
shape, but in that of a disk. He ordered all other 
images of other Gods associated with the sun to be 
destroyed; the priests of these deposed Gods lost 
their places and estates, which latter were confiscat- 
ed. But his sons-in-law who succeeded him restored 
the deposed monarchs. Nevertheless they were 
marked as heretics by those priests who were rein- 
stated in their former power. In consequence of this 
conflict, which was violent and prolonged, the intel- 
lectual life of Egypt was paralyzed and the mystic 
teachings of the priests were henceforth not disturbed 
by any wave of progress or advance. 

The people again sank into a stupid and unredeem- 
able formalism, demonism and sorcery. With the 
purpose of amusing them the priests furnished gorge- 
ous sacrificial processions and festivals, while at the 



FOUNDATION OF CHRISTIANITY loi 

same time drawing them away from the true God by 
teaching them a worship of deceased kings and 
queens. They also built temples, to only the outer 
portion of which were the people generally admitted, 
while the innermost portions were guarded by these 
priests lest the mysteries thus protected be such no 
longer. They also procured the building of the an- 
cient Labyrinth, near Lake Moeris, of which Herod- 
otus tells us that there were fifteen hundred cham- 
bers above ground and as many more under 
ground, which latter were never shown except to the 
initiated, and which contained the remains of sacred 
crocodiles and of the Pharaohs. 

The Egyptian priests taught that man was made 
up of body, a material essence or the soul, which in the 
shape of a bird left the body at death, and an im- 
material spirit which held to the man the same rela- 
tion which a God held to the animal in which he 
dwelt, and which at death departed from the body 
like the image of a dream. They taught also that, 
if the soul and spirit were to live on, the body should 
be embalmed and laid in a rock chamber, and that 
then the relatives must supply meat, drink, and cloth- 
ing for its use. The spirit took its way to Osiris and 
by means of a magic formula the dead would be made 
one with Osiris; hence in the Egyptian "Book of the 
Dead" the deceased was addressed as Osiris with his 
own name added, and could now lead a happy life in 
the other world, which life was portrayed on the walls 
of the Sepulchres in pictures which are still to be 



102 FOUNDATIOiS OF CHRISTIANITY 

seen, showing how the creature comforts of this world 
w ere to be enhanced in the next. Having reached the 
outer world, and having escaped the host of demons 
that threatened him on his passage, he could then re- 
visit this earth at will in any form. 

The Egyptian priests also taught that there was a 
judgment of the dead, and that new comers had to 
appear before Osiris, with his forty-two Assessors, 
and disclaim the commission of each one of forty-two 
sins ; all of whch was a magic formula for obtaining 
bliss according to their notion rather than anything 
intended as a true statement. The hippopotamus fig- 
ured as an active agent in the Book of the Dead, ap- 
pearing always as the accuser, when the sins and the 
good deeds were being weighed in the balance, while 
the God Thot was the "attorney for the defense." 

All these secret doctrines of a priestcraft necessi- 
tated secret associations, at least of the higher priests, 
to which the king was always admitted, the only 
Egyptian outside of the priesthood to be thus taught 
their secrets. This was purely for protection; hav- 
ing less fear of foreigners these priests often initiated 
distinguished men from foreign lands, Greeks espe- 
cially. Thus Orpheus, Homer, Lycurgus, Solon, 
Herodotus, Pythagoras, Plato, Archimedes, and many 
others, received the secret doctrine. The ritual was 
a long and tedious but significant ceremony, taught by 
degrees like the Masonry of to-day, and necessitated 
in some cases the right of circumcision ; all who passed 
it were pledged to the most strict silence. Accord- 



FOUNDATION OF CHRISTIANITY 103 

Ing to DIodorus the Orphic Mysteries were in large 
degree a repetition of the Egyptian, while the Greek 
legislators, philosophers and mathematicians whom 
I have named drew their knowledge from the same 
source; all of which is probably a very gross exag- 
geration. Nevertheless it would appear from the 
hieroglyphic remains that high grade schools were 
conducted by the Egyptian priests, and that foreign 
scholars could obtain for themselves instruction in the 
exact sciences of the day. Only the priests, how- 
ever, were able to write the hieroglyphics, at least in 
the earlier centuries of Egyptian history. 

There can be no doubt but that the secret doctrine 
of the Egyptian priests was both philosophic and 
religious, and was sharply distinguished from the pop- 
ular belief which mistook tradition for truth; that it 
was monotheistic, that it rejected polytheism and 
zoolatry, and that the true signification of Egyptian 
mythology was expounded in private. Moreover an 
essential part of this mystery concerned the interpre- 
tation of myths as allegorical accounts of personified 
natural phenomena. For instance Plutarch ("Isis 
and Osiris") writes — "When we hear of the Egyp- 
tian myths of the Gods, their wanderings, their dis- 
memberment and other like incidents, we must recall 
the remarks already made, so as to understand that 
the stories told are not to be taken literally as re- 
counting actual occurences." 

Without now going into the subject of the relative 
age of the Egyptian and Chaldean cults, I will re- 



I04 FOUNDATION OF CHRISTIANITY 

mind you that the secret wisdom of one race was not 
excelled by that of the other. The Chaldean races 
are undoubtedly of Turanian origin, and their form 
of religion was peculiar to the Ural-Altaic stock and 
the Turkic races, who originated the Cuneiform writ- 
ing. Their most ancient writings represented evil 
spirits as coming from the desert in groups of seven, 
and contained formulas for exorcising them; they 
were presided over by the heavens, while from the 
higher spirits evolved Gods and Goddesses in count- 
less number. Upon the original ground work of 
Chaldean ideas a Semitic race built a superstructure, 
and the first traces of the Babylonians and Assyrians 
appeared some four thousand years B. C. Their 
highest God was an individual whom they named 
Baal, while the sun and moon were his images. As 
in Egypt the priests were held in great reverence, 
standing next after the king, who was ex officio high 
priest; they too had a secret doctrine withheld from 
the vulgar. Although the Chaldeans were astrolo- 
gers rather than astronomers, they were yet familiar 
enough with the heavens to estimate astral phenom- 
ena for what they really were, instead of holding 
them to be Gods, though they may have represented 
them as such to the common people. Their literature 
contained numerous mythological poems, so obscure 
that to understand them a key was required, which 
key was only in the possession of the priests. Inas- 
much as Abraham came from Ur in Chaldea, with 
him crept into biblical literature much of the Chal- 



FOUNDATION OF CHRISTIANITY 105 

dean tradition and folklore. The Chaldeans had al- 
so their Noah, and their deluge, in which the dove 
figured as in the biblical account. When the pro- 
prietor of the Ark finally freed the animals he erected 
an altar and offered sacrifice, to which the Gods gath- 
ered "like masses of flies." This story contributes 
but one section of the great Chaldean epic in which 
are recounted the exploits of a hero corresponding 
with the Nimrod of the Hebrew Bible, dating from 
the twenty-third century B. C, and reminding one 
forcibly of the Herculean and many other myths re- 
counted in other ancient languages. 

An off-shoot of the Chaldean culture was that of 
Persia, whose priestly class were far removed above 
the warriors and farmers that constituted the other 
two classes. Priests married only among their own 
race, possessed all the knowledge, made their king 
ex officio one of themselves, and practised itinerant 
teaching, but solely among their own caste. In the 
holy city, Ragha, the priests alone held rule and no 
secular power prevailed; Zoroaster was their found- 
er; they were the physicians, astrologers, interpreters 
of dreams, scribes and officers of justice, while they 
impressed upon the minds of the people their exclu- 
sive duties; — to reverence the holy fire, which was 
their greatest mystery, to listen to the teaching of 
passages from the sacred book, and to perform nu- 
merous ceremonies of purification. Only the initiated 
were taught the meaning of the strife between the 
good Ormuzd and the evil Ahriman, which was prob- 



io6 FOUNDATION OF CHRISTIANITY 

ably the alternation of day and night, and of summer 
and winter. 

In India the intense feeling with regard to caste 
but little altered the condition of things from that ob- 
taining as above described, though the Brahmins 
were further away from the other castes than in other 
countries where the priests came from the common 
people ; by the latter the Brahmins used to be regard- 
ed as Gods and did all they could to perpetuate this 
feeling. By this fact alone they became a self-consti- 
tuted mystic organization, being themselves pantheists 
while the people were idolators. Though they taught 
pantheism in their sacred books, the second and third 
castes, namely the warriors and farmers, did not un- 
derstand the teaching, and the fourth caste dared not 
read them at all. 

In this pantheism penitents and hermits were es- 
teemed as above kings and heroes; but even the life 
of a hermit was not exacting enough for them, so they 
organized the idea of a soul of the universe so incom- 
prehensible that, as they themselves acknowledged, 
no man could comprehend it or instruct another in it. 
Despairing of solving the problem they finally fan- 
cied that the universe was a phantasm, and that the 
earth and all things earthly were nothing. They 
taught that through countless aeons of time men grew 
always worse, and were born only to suffer and die, or 
to do penance in the torments of an indescribable 
Hell. Naturally of all these things the people could 
only understand the teachings pertaining to hell and j 



FOUNDATION OF CHRISTIANITY 107 

future punishment, and so the Brahmins contrived 
for them a supreme deity, having the same name as 
their Soul of the Universe, namely Brahma, whom 
they made the creator but playing a passive part. 
The people were not content, however, with an ab- 
sentee passive God, but paid much more attention to 
Vishnu the preserver, and the dreaded Siva, the des- 
troyer. After a while these three Gods were united 
in a sort of trinity, represented by a three headed fig- 
ure, but without temples or sacrifices. The Brahmins 
continued their subtleties and divided the people into 
parties, like the scholiasts and disputants of the mid- 
dle centuries of our present Christian era, and so the 
Hindoo religion became more and more debased. 
However, in the sixth century B. C, Buddha, that 
great figure in early history, endeavored to save it 
by a reform which found much more encouragement 
in the West, and to the far East of India, than in 
India itself, and which has since assumed a more com- 
posite character by fusion with the religions of the 
surrounding countries. 

Buddha formed first a monastic society based upon 
ethical doctrines, whose underlying principle was that 
only by a renunciation of everything can man find 
safety, peace and comfort. Buddha's first teachings 
were mystic and for the initiated only; his followers 
believed also in reincarnation. After his death and 
that of those who were supposed to have lived before 
him, and who were expected to appear again, and 
who had been raised to the dignity of Gods, (and af- 



io8 FOUNDATION OF CHRISTIANITY 

ter their number had been added to that of the pop- 
ular Hindoo Gods and to the Gods of the other 
people) , then Buddhism became a polytheism, and be- 
cause of the variety of possible explanations and the 
necessary exegesis, assumed in the end the dimensions 
of a secret mystic doctrine. 

The Hellenes undoubtedly did, in the beginning, 
worship natural forces under the form of animals, 
especially of serpents ; later human and animal forms 
were united, and so they had deities with heads of 
animals, or with the bodies of horses like the Cen- 
taurs, or with the hoofs of goats like the Satyrs. But 
the natural Greek taste for the beautiful early assert- 
ed itself; the figures of Gods came by degrees to 
express the ideal of physical perfection, that is the 
human shape, and the Grecian religion became es- 
sentially a worship of the beautiful, and not as among 
Oriental religions a worship of the unnatural or hide- 
ous. They forgot the astronomic and cosmic signifi- 
cance of the early myths and held rather to personi- 
fications of the normal forces, of which their poets 
sang as of mortal heroes. They never dreamt of 
dogma, creed or revelation, demanded only that man 
honor the Gods, but left it to the taste of each one 
how he should suitably perform his acts of reverence. 
It must be confessed, however, that in candor and 
chastity they left much to be desired; but this may 
be explained when we remember that their own Gods 
set them a very poor example in these respects. Still 
history will forgive them much because they loved 



FOUNDATION OF CHRISTIANITY 109 

much. The Greeks were exceedingly liberal In their 
interpretations concerning the Gods, while the various 
peoples constituting the Greek race were not at all 
agreed as to the number and respective rank of the 
Gods whom they worshiped. Thus one would be dis- 
owned here, another there; while in one place great- 
er honor would be paid to one, or elsewhere to anoth- 
er; exactly as in the case of the Saints among the 
Catholic people of to-day. They went so far in their 
worship of the beautiful as to divide the Gods among 
the localities which possessed statues of them, which 
Gods came to be regarded as distinct individuals ; so 
that even Socrates doubted whether Aphrodite of the 
sky and Aphrodite of the people were or were not 
the same person. 

Furthermore in their liberality they made Gods 
to hand for every emergency, and even worshiped 
the unknown Gods, as St. Paul long ago recorded. 
For the Greeks these Gods were neither monsters 
like those of Egypt, India and Chaldea, nor incor- 
poreal spirits like the Gods of Persia and of Israel, 
but human beings with all the human attributes. For 
the Greeks neither Jehovah existed, nor a personal 
devil in any form. Like the Greeks themselves their 
Gods had many human failings, though in them re- 
ligion survived many mythological creations like the 
Centaurs, the Satyrs, etc. These were merely folk- 
lore beings enacting parts ranging from terror to 
farce, and never receiving divine honors. 

Grecian religion was, so to speak, the established 



no FOUNDATION OF CHRISTIANITY 

church of the Greek states, but came to be in time 
a cloak for the designs of the politicians ; in which re- 
spect history has many times repeated itself. For in- 
stance Socrates was made to drink his cup of hem- 
lock on the pretext that he had apostatized from the 
state religion. Still even in his day heresy played no 
part except among politicians. Every one could 
plainly state his convictions, and Aristophanes in his 
comedies Introduced Gods In the most ridiculous and 
compromising situations. So long as the public wor- 
ship of the Gods went on the state cared little for 
the upholding of positive or suppressing of negative 
beliefs. The Gods were entitled to sacrifices and the 
people to divine aid, but they could regulate the inter- 
change to suit themselves. The greatest public crimes 
were violation of temples and profanation of sacred 
things; one must leave the images alone even if he 
did not believe in the Gods they represented. Pun- 
ishment of blasphemy was only inflicted when com- 
plaint was made. Foreign Gods could be Introduced 
and worshiped at will, providing only that the cus- 
tomary honors were rendered to those at home. 

Such religious freedom could naturally only exist 
during the minority or the absence of a priestly class. 
Anyone could transact business with the Gods or con- 
duct sacrifices ; priests were employed only in the tem- 
ples, and outside of them they had neither business, 
influence nor privileges. Their pantheism was com- 
prehensive ; the Gods were everywhere, and the hon- 
or done to them consisted in invocations, votive of- 



FOUNDATION OF CHRISTIANITY iii 

ferlngs and sacrifices. The Grecian religion recog- 
nized no official revelation which all were required to 
believe, though it did not deny the possibility of rev- 
elations at any time. Their oracles were obtainable 
only in particular places and through duly qualified 
individuals. At one time in ancient Greece conjura- 
tion was in vogue, but the Gods and demons who in- 
dulged in it were all borrowed from foreign sources, 
and in time it degenerated into pure magic. 

The Greeks, however, could not get away from the 
sentimental notion that belief in the Gods must have 
an ethical side and must be subordinate to their faith ; 
in other words that human nature was something en- 
tirely different from the divine to which it was sub- 
ject. Alienation from the God in which they believed 
led necessarily to the impulse to seek him, which was 
the leading motive in the institution of the Grecian 
mysteries, — Gods who were man's equals were not 
sufficient for the Greeks. In the beginning of these 
mysteries they borrowed the art of the popular re- 
ligion, disregarded the science of the day as well as 
the philosophic doctrines of their great men, held in 
contempt both human power and human knowledge, 
and devoted themselves almost entirely to self-intro- 
spection, meditation on revelation, incarnation and 
resurrection, and presented these things in dramatic 
forms and ceremonies, by which illusions they hoped 
to make more or less impression upon the senses. 
The Grecian mysteries were the opposite of genuine 
Hellenism. The true Greek was cheerful, happy, 



112 FOUNDATION OF CHRISTIANITY 

clear in perception, and his Gods appeared to him as 
do their statues to us to-day. But Greek mysticism 
was full of gloom, symbolism and fantastic interpre- 
tations ; in every way it was unhellenic and abnormal, 
having no fit place in their soil nor in their age. It 
always has been the case that sentimental, romantic 
or mystical dispositions find delight in the mysterious, 
while logical minds are unmoved by it. From the 
Mysteries no man was excluded, save those who had 
shown themselves unworthy of initiation. They had 
their origin in the early rites of purification and atone- 
ment ; the former being at first only bodily cleansing, 
which later took on a moral significance; while the 
atonement was a sort of expiation which came with 
the consciousness of sin and desire for forgiveness. 
Atonement was most called for in case of blood guilt- 
iness, and consisted largely in the sacrifices of animals, 
burning of incense, etc. In all the ancient mysteries 
these two features of purification and expiation played 
a great part. 

Of them all the oldest and most celebrated were 
those instituted at Eleusis, in Attica, in honor of the 
Goddess Demeter (Latin Ceres), and her daughter 
Persephone (Latin Proserpina). To these were 
added later a masculine deity, known at first as lac- 
chos, whose name is probably related to Jao, which 
appears in Jovispater or Jupiter, and to the Hebrew 
Yahve or Jehovah. Later, however, B was substi- 
tuted for I and lacchos was made to read Bacchus. 
Jao was the Harvest God, and consequently God of 



FOUNDATION OF CHRISTIANITY 113 

the grape, hence the close relation to Bacchus. The 
Greek word Eleusls means advent, and commemo- 
rates the visit of Demeter while wandering in search 
of her daughter, — which reminds one of the Egyp- 
tian story of Isis. Moved by gratitude, Demeter 
bestowed upon the people of Eleusis the bread-grain 
and the mysteries. From this city the cult of these 
two deities spread over all Greece and most of Asia 
Minor, passed into Italy in modified form, and thus 
became widely accepted. The people built at Eleusis 
a temple in pure Doric style and a Mystic House in 
which the secret festivals were held. The city was 
connected with Athens by a Sacred Way, which was 
flanked with temples and sanctuaries, while in Athens 
itself was a building, the Eleusinion, in which a por- 
tion of the mysteries were celebrated. The buildings 
at Eleusis were in good preservation until the fourth 
century A. D., when they were destroyed by the 
Goths under Alaric, and at the instigation of monk- 
ish fanatics. You will see, then, that the mysteries 
were widely observed in Asia Minor, and at a time 
when they must have deeply tinged the religious views 
and habits of a large portion of the population prior 
to the beginning of the Christian Era. 

The Eleusinian mysteries were always under the 
direction of the Athenian government, and the report 
of their celebration was always rendered to the grand 
council of Athens. The function of the priests was 
an hereditary and exclusive privilege and the mys- 
teries as a whole were under the immediate care of a 



1 14 FOUNDATION OF CHRISTIANITY 

sacred council. The people contented themselves 
mainly with honoring the Gods, while in these mys- 
teries the original endeavor was to emphasize the 
preeminence of the divine over the human, hence their 
careful guardianship by the authorities of the state. 
Both were offshoots of pantheism, one seeing the di- 
vine In all earthly things, the other constantly search- 
ing for it there, and striving to unite with it. Mono- 
theism, that is absolute separation of the human from 
the divine without hope of union, is a purely Oriental 
conception, quite incomprehensible to the Greek mind. 
No ancient Greek ever conceived of a creative deity 
in the Egyptians' sense, nor of a vengeful Jehovah 
like that of the Hebrews. 

The Eleuslnian mysteries were most highly venerat- 
ed among the Greeks ; so much so that during their cel- 
ebration hostilities were suspended between opposing 
armies, while those who witnessed them uninvited or 
betrayed the secret teaching, or ridiculed them, were 
executed or banished. So late even as the period of 
the Roman supremacy the Roman Emperors took an 
Interest in maintaining these mysteries, and some of 
the early Christian Emperors, like Constantlus II. 
and Jovian, while forbidding nocturnal festivals made 
an exception of these. 

The sum of the original Eleuslnian doctrine is a 
myth based upon the rape of Demeter's daughter 
Persephone by Pluto, all of which is the old story of 
the seasons and the changes brought about In their 
regular succession ; and as Persephone was ultimately 



-. 



FOUNDATION OF CHRISTIANITY 115 

united with Bacchus but returned to the lower world 
for the winter, we see typified first, the fruitfulness 
of the Sun God; secondly, the fecundity of the soil, 
and, thirdly, the resurrection of the body, which hav- 
ing been dropped like the grain into the earth was 
supposed to rise from it again after a similar fashion. 
How much this may have to do with present Chris- 
tian beliefs concerning the resurrection may not be 
easily decided. Nevertheless it is of interest that 
the doctrine of the resurrection is of pre-Christian ori- 
gin and is traceable through heathen teachings, even 
if having no greater support than the analogy above 
cited. The central teaching of the mysteries was 
probably that of a personal immortality analogous 
to the return of bloom and blossom to plants in the 
spring. 

There were two festivals held at Eleusis, the les- 
ser m March, when the ravished Persephone came up 
out of the nether world into the sunlight; and the 
greater m October when she had to follow her sullen 
spouse into Hades again. The preliminary celebra- 
tion was held at Athens, and lasted six days, from 
October 15th to 20th. They all assembled upon that 
day and went down to the seashore for the rite of 
purification, the other days being spent in sacrificing 
and marching in solemn procession. On the last of 
them came the grand Bacchic procession, when thou- 
sands of both sexes wended their way along the sa- 
cred road to Eleusis ; the distance to be traveled was 
fourteen miles, but many stops were made. Arrived 



ii6 FOUNDATION OF CHRISTIANITY 

at Eleusis the first evening was devoted to drinking 
the decoction called kykeon, by which Demeter was 
originally comforted during her wanderings. Dur- 
ing the first days the initiated feasted and performed 
their mystic rites, consisting largely of torch light 
processions at night. After these were over the fes- 
tival became a scene of merriment and athletic com- 
petition. The fasting and solemn cup, along with 
others of their rites, remind one of certain Christian 
observations perpetuated to the present day, while 
the severe tests to which those desiring initiation were 
subject have been more or less imitated by the Free 
Masons and other secret societies of mediaeval or 
modern times. The Mystic House must have been 
furnished with all the resources of the stage and the 
most ingenious stage carpentry of that day, and makes 
one think of Scottish Rite Masonry of this. The 
initiates regarded their chances in the next world as 
much better than those of the common people, as all 
the ancient Greek writers acknowledge. 

In age and renown the mysteries of the Cabiri, in 
the island of Samothrace, rank next to those of Eleus- 
is. They date back to a time preceding the evolution 
of several of the Grecian deities. These Mysteries 
implied originally an astro-mythology, losing in time 
its astral meaning. In these Samothracian mysteries 
the reproductive forces of nature figured most prom- 
inently, and through them the Phallic worship of the 
Orientals was transmitted to the Greeks. Into these 
mysteries women and even children were initiated. 



FOUNDATION OF CHRISTIANITY 117 

There were also Cabirian mysteries in several other 
Islands in the Grecian Archipelago, as well as on the 
continent. 

Mysteries were also celebrated in the Island of 
Crete, in honor of Zeus. We know but little concern- 
ing them save that in the spring time the birth of the 
God was commemorated in one place, and his death at 
another, and that amid loud noises the story of the 
childhood of Zeus was enacted by the young. 

As already remarked the worship of Bacchus was 
imported and in him was personified the influence of 
the sun upon the growth of the vine, while the ulti- 
mate tendency was to the glorification of life and 
force ; in other words, it was eminently materialistic 
and appealed to the grosser senses. The Dionysian 
mysteries originated in Thrace, and among a people 
of Pelasgian stock, who were naturally gloomy save 
when aroused, when their enthusiasm became exag- 
gerated into transports of frenzy. In time a dis- 
tinction obtained between the Dionysian mysteries 
and the festivals. At least seven different non-mystic 
festivals occurred in Attica during the year, which 
were of popular character, during which the Phallic 
worship, if any, predominated. The fabled adven- 
tures of Bacchus were enacted and the dramatic stage 
originated at this time and from this beginning. On 
the other hand, a triennial festival of Dionysos was 
held in which women participated who, saturated with 
wine, lost all restraint and humility and were called 
maenades or mad women, while their festivals were 



iiS FOUNDATION OF CHRISTIANITY 

spoken of as orgia, whence our modern term orgies. 
These were conducted at night, upon the mountains, 
by torch-light, in mid-winter, while the women, who 
were clothed in skins, shunned all association with 
men, and drank, danced, sang and committed all sorts 
of excesses, finally sacrificing a bull, in honor of the 
god, whose flesh they devoured raw. They then 
raved about the death of their god and how he must 
be found again; all hope in rediscovering him cen- 
tering in the quickening springtime. 

Bacchus worship, bad as it was in Greece, was sur- 
passed in Rome, Livy even comparing the introduction 
of the Bacchic cult into Rome to a visitation of the 
plague. In its Etruscan and Roman form it became 
simple debauchery with a thin veneering of religion. 
So abominable did it become in time that in i86 B. 
C, the Consul Albinus was compelled to suppress it. 
Seven thousand persons were implicated at that time, 
and the ringleaders and a multitude of their accom- 
plices were condemned to death or exile. The sen- 
ate decreed that the Bacchanalia should never again 
be held in Rome or Italy, and the places sacred to 
Bacchic worship were to be destroyed. These orgies 
continued unchecked outside of Italy, and in time re- 
appeared again even upon Italian soil, until the days 
of the Roman Emperors, when they reached a pitch 
of absolute shamelessness, as in the case of the notori- 
ous Messalina. 

Time fails in which to mention all of the other 
debased mysteries which were met with in the various 



FOUNDATION OF CHRISTIANITY 119 

parts of Greece and Italy. Among them, however, 
must be recorded those of the mother of Rhea, those 
of Sebazios, and those of Mithras, all of which were 
finally collected by the sect of Orpheans. Among the 
Persians Mithras was the Light, and his worship was 
perhaps the purest cult that could be imagined. Later 
it was combined with sun worship, and Mithras be- 
came a Sun God, and as such generally recognized 
among the different peoples. To the early Greeks 
Mithras was unknown, but in the later days of the 
Roman Empire his mysteries made their appearance 
and gained great prominence. The monuments rep- 
resented a young man in the act of slaying a bull with 
a dagger, while all around are human and animal fig- 
ures, the youth standing for the Sun God who, on 
subduing Taurus in May, begins to develop his high- 
est power. The original beautiful rites later degener- 
ated and became orgies. Among the original rites 
was a form of baptism and the drinking of a potion 
made of meal and water. Human sacrifices were in 
some places a part of the cult. 

The most disreputable of all these mysteries ap- 
pear to have been the Sabazian, which were made 
up of several earlier forms, and were mere excuses 
for gluttony and lewdness, while the priests of the 
cult were most impudent beggars. 

Thus in time the mysteries were stripped of all the 
beauties of a heavenly origin and became of earth ex- 
ceedingly earthy, while their initiates, lost to all shame 
and decency, persisted nevertheless in their sacred hy- 



120 FOUNDATION OF CHRISTIANITY 

pocrisy, until the hideous night of the Gods disap- 
peared before the glow of a brighter morning. 

After this rather long preliminary portion, we are 
now prepared, as otherwise we could not be, to con- 
sider the relation between the Christian religion and 
these ancient mysteries. Granting that Jesus was 
the founder of the Christian religion, we must re- 
member, nevertheless, that he was distinctly a Jew, 
spent his life in Judea, and based his teachings upon 
Judaism ; also that long before his day Judaism was 
thoroughly indoctrinated with Greek elements, and 
that after his crucification the propaganda was car- 
ried on not so much by Jews as by Greeks and men of 
Grecian education. Between the Greeks and the 
Jews there were then, as now, the greatest differences ; 
differences which have already been epitomized, but 
which may be thus summarized. On one side the 
closest union between God or the Gods and man, most 
lofty sentiments and finest sense of art-form, a priest- 
hood making no pretentions and exerting little influ- 
ence, a nation sustaining active commercial relations 
with the world, and all imbued with eagerness to 
adopt whatever was novel; on the other side, the 
widest separation between Jehovah and man, a sub- 
stitution of theology and religious poetry for a study 
of nature, a nation ruled by priests and protected 
against all access from without, either by sea or 
caravan, adhering determinedly to the old and dis- 
trusting whatever was new. 

After the Jews were liberated from Babylon, by 



FOUNDATION OF CHRISTIANITY 121 

Cyrus, they dispersed widely, living largely under 
Persian rule, and subjected after Alexander's con- 
quest to Greek influences. Later they were scattered 
still more widely, becoming in time a mercantile race. 
In Egypt they enjoyed greater privileges than else- 
where, and in Alexandria saw the acme of Grecian 
art and teaching. While retaining their reverence for 
their scriptures and for the temple at Jerusalem, they 
quite generally adopted the language of the country, 
and particularly was this true of the Jews living in 
Alexandria in the third century, B. C, during which 
the Pentateuch was translated into the Septuagint, the 
remainder of the Hebrew bible being translated about 
125 B. C. Thus the Greeks gained an introduction 
to Jewish theology, while the Hellenist Jews learned 
for the first time a Grecian philosophy; thus, too, 
among the scholars of one race was begotten a high 
esteem for the sages and philosophers of the other, 
while from the polytheism of one and the monotheism 
of the other was constructed a new mysticism. In 
this Alexandrian mysticism appeared in particular and 
for the first time the new idea of divine revelation, 
which was applied by enthusiasts alike to the Old Tes- 
tament and to the Grecian writings. The Jew Aris- 
tobulus devised a most ingenious allegorical interpre- 
tation of the Old Testament, and traced to it all the 
wisdom of the Greeks, who until recently had never 
heard of it ; and Philo, another Hebrew philosopher, 
contemporary with Christ, yet of whom he knew 
nothing, so construed the traditions of his race as to 



122 FOUNDATION OF CHRISTIANITY 

see in the four rivers of Eden the four cardinal vir- 
tues, in the trees of paradise the lesser virtues, and in 
the great figures of Jewish history personifications of 
various moral conceptions, all of which was out-do- 
ing the manner in which his Grecian friends had de- 
veloped their own mysteries. Moreover, and this is 
very important, Philo taught that God had made a 
world of ideas and according to this model had sub- 
sequently made a corporeal world; the former hav- 
ing for its central point the Word. This statement 
that the Word was the first and the World his second 
deed passed later into the gospel of St. John, which 
opens "In the beginning was the word, and the word 
was God." 

Philo founded a sect based upon the doctrine that 
the soul's union with the body is to be regarded as 
a punishment from which man should free himself, 
for his soul's sake. This sect was known as the Es- 
senes, who in spite of claims to the highest antiquity 
really were founded during the first century B. C, 
and who constituted in effect a secret society. They 
were the true socialists of their day, and held things 
in common. They invented a peculiar nomenclature 
for the angels and imposed upon their new members 
to keep these names secret. As a society they did not 
long survive the beginning of the Christian era, be- 
ing made superfluous by Christian asceticism. The 
Essenes, however, were of importance in this regard 
that they constituted the middle terms between the 
Grecian mysteries and Christianity, as they did be- 



FOUNDATION OF CHRISTIANITY 123 

tween Grecian philosophy and Judaism. They were, 
in effect, a Jewish imitation of the Pythagorean 
league. When with Grecian mysticism were associated 
the nobility of Socrates, the philosophy of Plato, the 
science of Aristotle and the Jewish belief in one God, 
it is not strange that out of these elements, combined 
with the teachings of simple humanity enunciated by 
Christ, there resulted a power which transformed the 
world. The view that all mankind are brothers, 
originally Jewish, was also of independent Greek ori- 
gin and came especially from the Stoics, who had to 
lie dormant until some tie stronger than mere political 
association held men together. This tie subsequently 
became a religious one. Polytheism had nothing 
more to give up; all the forces had been worked 
over in the God-making process, the Pantheon was 
full, and men ridiculed alike the Gods, their oracles 
and their priests. These same priests smiled at each 
other when they met, and forfeited all public respect 
by the lives they led. Olympic wantoning and deri- 
sion of the Gods must necessarily have ended so soon 
as anything better could be substituted therefor. 

The long felt want was for a God of definite char- 
acter, of approved prowess, with human feelings, hu- 
man wrath, and human love, made after man's own 
likeness, who should stand for a doctrine of personal 
immortality, and give some promise of a hereafter. 
The Jews, the only monotheists of the time, 
were prepared to furnish such a God, but 
he was too spiritual, and was worshiped by altogeth- 



124 FOUNDATION OF CHRISTIANITY 

er too indefinite rites and peculiar usages. Neverthe- 
less the God of the Jews was utilized for this purpose 
while the mystic elements with which he was to be 
surrounded were furnished by the ancient Grecian 
mysteries and the doctrines of the Pythagoreans and 
Essenes. So completely did the Jews and Greeks 
mingle in Egypt and in Judea, that the idea prevailed 
among both races that the time had come for some- 
thing new in the desired direction. The various se- 
cret leagues demanded a separation of the divine from 
the human and their subsequent reconciliation, all of 
which was subsequently furnished to their satisfaction 
in the accounts of the origin and death of Christ. 
Even during the early years of the Roman Empire 
men looked for a new kingdom in the East, and both 
Jews and Heathen awaited some divine intervention. 
This took more definite form in the Jewish expecta- 
tion of a Messiah who should restore the kingdom of 
Israel, and in their worship of Jehovah, while the 
Greeks yearned for something to take the place of 
their degenerate polytheism. 

The times were thus ready for the appearance of 
Jesus, who lived for most of his life in obscurity, and 
of whose career no mention is made by contemporary 
Greek and Roman writers. This was perhaps for- 
tunate for his followers, for none could contradict 
what any other might choose to say of Him who rose 
above the bigotry of his day and people, who was ex- 
ecuted because of his independence of the priests and 
scribes, and who was thus regarded as the longed 



FOUNDATION OF CHRISTIANITY 125 

for Messiah. On the Jewish branch of his real ori- 
gin were grafted Grecian mystical off-shoots of super- 
human origin; — an Immaculate conception, a vicar- 
ious sacrifice, a resurrection and an assumption of a 
portion of the God-head. Thus, In what has come 
down to us concerning the Founder of the Christian 
church, truth and fiction mingle; the former being 
that which is consistent with highest laws and natural 
phenomena ; and the latter that which conflicts with 
these. Jesus himself never made pretentions to being 
more than a man. When he spoke of his father he 
spoke of him as equally the father of all mankind; 
he was the greatest moral reformer that ever lived, 
and he differed widely from the Essenes In that he 
sought to save man, not by Essenism and withdraw- 
ing him from the world, but by living with him and 
setting him a beautiful example. 

The ancients were firm believers In signs and por- 
tents from the heavens which were supposed to serve 
both for the Instruction and warning of mankind. 
Stars, meteors, the aurora, comets and sudden lights 
of any kind were regarded as presaging events like 
the birth of Gods, heroes, etc. Great lights were sup- 
posed to have appeared both at the conception and 
birth of Buddha, and of Crishna. The sacred writ- 
ings of China tell of like events in the history of the 
founder of her first dynasty, Yu, and of her Inspired 
sages. The Greeks and Romans had similar tra- 
ditions regarding the birth of Aesculapius and sever- 
al of the Caesars. In Jewish history we read that a 



126 FOUNDATION OF CHRISTIANITY 

star appeared at the birth of Moses, and of Abra- 
ham — for whom an unusual one appeared in the East. 
The prominence which a similar star in the East 
played in the legends of the Founder of Christianity 
and the effect which, as also in the case of Moses it 
had upon Magi, needs here no rehearsing. A very 
different significance was attached to eclipse or to any 
phenomena by which unexpected darkness is produced. 
The Greeks held that at the deaths of Prometheus, 
Hercules, Aesculapius and Alexander, a great dark- 
ness overspread the earth. In Roman history the 
earth was shadowed in darkness for six hours when 
Romulus died. Much the same thing is reported to 
have occurred when Julius Caesar died. So also one 
of the most conspicuous features attending the cruci- 
fixion of Jesus was a similar phenomenon which is 
made to play a most conspicuous part, for we read in 
three of the gospels that "darkness spread over 
the earth from the sixth to the ninth hour;" although 
the only evangelist who claims to have been present 
says nothing about it, nor do historians of that time, 
like Seneca and Pliny, make note of any such event 
in Judea. 

In view of all this, however, to deny the star in the 
East, and the hours of darkness following the cru- 
cifixion, is regarded by many pious people as rank 
blasphemy or heresy of the deepest dye. 

The parables in which Jesus taught so unmistaka- 
bly were similes adapted to the simple comprehension 
of his people, who likewise often made use of such 



FOUNDATION OF CHRISTIANITY 127 

figurative language. Those who followed him used 
this form of speech much more freely, and quickly 
erected his personality into the dignity of a God, mag- 
nified him and his mission, and soon saw him gener- 
ally accepted as the equivalent of the Messiah, for 
whom Greeks and Jews alike had longed. His al- 
leged miracles were unnecessary, in addition to being 
contradictory to all known natural sequences, because 
the simple and sublime truths which he preached could 
not be made more expressive by any such help. In 
the light of to-day they seem unnecessary juggleries, 
quite unworthy of so grand a character. They prob- 
ably represent the effort of his followers, who por- 
trayed his life and personality in colors which would 
make them more generally acceptable. 

Of such transformations as that by which the son 
of a carpenter was made to appear of divine origin 
history has no lack. The Grecian polytheism fur- 
nished numerous illustrations; Apollo appeared on 
earth as a shepherd, Herakles, the son of Zeus, and 
Romulus (who was also the son of a virgin and of 
Mars)y were founders of cities, states and nations. 
The Jewish accounts of creation stated that God 
walked the earth, and why not in human form ? Why 
also should not the founder of a religion be the son 
of God and of a virgin? The rest of the beautiful 
story upon which we were all brought up must be re- 
garded as fanciful embellishment, beautiful in its 
imagery, but having no foundation in fact or scien- 
tific possibility. The annunciation, the star in the 



128 FOUNDATION OF CHRISTIANITY 

East, the slaughter of the Innocents, etc., can only be 
regarded in this light. 

The stories of the miracles are probably distinctive- 
ly purposive. In the Grecian mysteries Demcter and 
Dionysos figured as givers of bread and wine ; Jesus, 
too, was made lord and giver of these two sacred vi- 
ands, all of which appears in his changing water into 
wine, multiplying the loaves, and later in the institu- 
tion of the Last Supper, at which bread and wine be- 
came a part of these Christian mysteries which are 
still widely perpetuated. In his quieting the storm, 
walking upon the water, finding the penny in the 
fishes' mouth, and the draught of fishes, are portrayed 
his power over the forces of nature and lower forms 
of life. His power over disease was personified by 
stories of healing paralytics, lepers, blind, deaf and 
dumb people, casting out devils, and even by restor- 
ing the dead to life. Apparitions were common ac- 
cording to the history of his life, as of the holy spirit 
in form of a dove, his encounter with Satan, the ap- 
pearance of Moses and Elias, etc. The ancient ten- 
dency to personify appears again in the form of Sa- 
tan or a personal devil, namely the power of evil, 
while in the Transfiguration is personified the superi- 
ority of the new law over the old. Finally the mira- 
cles attending his last days, the darkening of the sun, 
the rending of the veil and the Resurrection, were all 
occurrences which it would be impossible to omit 
from the closing scenes in the life of anyone who has 
figured as i God. They betoken the mourning of 



FOUNDATION OF CHRISTIANITY 129 

nature, while the Ascension personified the belief In 
an everlasting Redeemer and the Individual immor- 
tality of those who believed In him. 

In thus epitomizing the events In the life of Jesus 
upon which, from his day until now, men have laid 
such fearful stress, and upon whose acceptance the 
present life as well as the future of all men has been 
conditioned, I should be far from doing justice to my- 
self should I fail to point out my own attitude in the 
matter. I hold it true that the self-evident truth, as 
well as the wonderful sublimity of Christ's teachings, 
become apparent upon the study of the same, and are 
weakened rather than strengthened by Insistence upon 
all that is supernatural, mysterious and Inconceivable 
in the generally accepted account of his life and labor. 
My mind is freed from the necessity for the mysteri- 
ous which the Graeco- Jewish people demanded, and 
which the superstitious people of to-day still demand, 
and I prefer to let him stand for what he seems to me 
to be, — the greatest moralist and teacher of all time, 
rather than to surround him with a veil of imagery 
and with statements so impossible of belief as to make 
it impossible to accept one part without accepting 
them all. The Jews already had doctrines of unity 
of God and love for others ; the Grecian philosophy 
antedated him in insisting upon elevation of life to a 
higher plane than that of mere gratification of the 
senses, and everywhere his predecessors and contem- 
poraries could furnish miracles by the hundred, but In 
force, grandeur and simplicity of his teachings, in his 



I30 FOUNDATION OF CHRISTIANITY 

comprehensive humanity, in his directness of appeal, 
in his condemnations of those who departed from the 
model which he set, he never has had and probably 
never will have an equal. In his self-abasement and 
love for others he was as irresistible as have been 
these principles in civilizing and, in this sense, chris- 
tianizing the world. 

In Jesus' own day there was no hair-splitting theol- 
ogy; devotion, love of fellow-men, charity, repent- 
ance, these were all that were needed. But the beau- 
tiful simplicity of his teaching was lost with the death 
of his first disciples. The system was esteemed too 
simple, too unadorned to appeal to the people used 
to something quite the contrary. And so Stephen the 
Martyr, who was of Grecian education, was stoned 
because he demanded a repudiation of certain Jewish 
teachings, although the congregation at Antioch adopt- 
ed his views. 

Paul the great leader was an epileptic and 
had frequent fits and visions, and these made a strong 
impression, not only on himself but on his followers. 
On the creations of his imagination the doctrine of 
the resurrection is largely based. He set up the God- 
man Jesus as the counterpart of the first man Adam, 
who represented sin and death, and who was to be 
crucified and born anew in Christ. Between Paul, the 
great Gentile Christian, and Peter, the Jewish Chris- 
tian, the church was quickly split into two parties; 
these two soon subdividing into others, and among 
them all arose the New Testament literature, whose 



) 
k J 



FOUNDATION OF CHRISTIANITY 131 

Alexandrine dialect establishes the influence of Greek 
education. 

Thus did Christianity develop out of the secret as- 
sociations of the ancient world. The early Christians 
themselves constituted, at least while under persecu- 
tion, a sort of secret society. Their worship was mys- 
tical, but not because Jesus so taught; — rather be- 
cause of their environment and traditions. The prac- 
tice of baptism, the last supper and the doctrines of 
incarnation and resurrection have been as certainly 
added to the Nazarene's sublime code of ethics as to 
them in turn, in the centuries to follow, were added 
every conceivable notion, mystery and stupid absurdity 
which the diseased minds of men could Imagine, and 
which have been the cause of more departure from 
Christ's original teachings, and of more strife and 
bloodshed than any other feature in the history of 
mankind. 

Indeed it is one of the greatest inconsistencies of 
history that the doctrines of love, unity and peace, 
taught by the Founder of Christianity, should have 
been the greatest of all factors to rend mankind apart, 
beget feelings of hatred, and result in the death, from 
this cause, of millions of men such as Jesus himself 
most loved. 



VI 

THE KNIGHTS HOSPITALLER OF ST. JOHN 
OF JERUSALEM 

THE three great militant, mendicant and 
monastic orders of the middle ages were the 
Knights Hospitaller of St. John, the 
Knights Templar, and the Teutonic Order. 
In addition were numerous others, smaller, shorter 
lived, less important in every respect, scarcely men- 
tioned in even the larger histories, like the knights 
of Calatrava, Alcantara, Santiago de Compostella, 
and the English Knights of the Holy Sepulchre. 
These orders were the immediate as well as the indi- 
rect outgrowth of mediaeval conditions for which 
both the Church and the State were responsible. The 
secret tenets of the Christians had been made public, 
and those who held to them had for some time ceased 
to be a secret society; their faith was now a part of 
that church which was essentially the State, and which 
occupied a goodly part of Europe. 

Sad to say the Church was rent, and the State suf- 
fered accordingly from constant strife between sects 
and parties, who contested, even to the death, over 
interpretations to be given to the scriptures, and the 
matter of creeds. Thus while discussing at point of 
the sword whether the soul is to be saved by good 
works, or by grace of God, they disregarded the very 

132 



KNIGHTS OF ST. JOHN 133 

essence of the simple teachings of Jesus, and brought 
upon theology, even in those days, the contempt and 
ridicule of the liberal minded and the non-believer, so 
that even to-day it suffers because of the unfortunate 
light in which it was made to appear. That theology 
should lead to war is the antithesis of the Christian 
doctrine, yet no wars have been so jRerce and bloody 
as those waged in "spreading the cross" and propa- 
gating a misinterpreted gospel. And so theology suf- 
fered doubly from the Monks who perverted it, and 
from the Knights and the State that inculcated it with 
fire and sword. 

For a thousand years nothing of importance was 
added to human knowledge, and mental confusion 
reigned supreme. At the end of this period all the 
original teachings of Christ were forgotten, and after 
passing through the hands and tongues of fanatics 
or deluded and ignorant men, Christianity was left 
with the semblance of a monotheistic basis on which 
had been crudely built up certain doctrines borrowed 
from Egyptian and Grecian sources, among which 
may be mentioned the Trinity, Immaculate Concep- 
tion, Resurrection and Ascension, as well as certain 
practices like that of the Lord's Supper, plainly bor- 
rowed from pagan customs. There was in all this 
so much to challenge belief, and so much at first un- 
acceptable to minds not trained to believe it, that, in 
order to be effective their propaganda had to be car- 
ried on with the sword. Moreover to the Christian 
mystic, anxious to unify himself with the hidden, 



134 KNIGHTS OF ST. JOHN 

unknown dlety, the idea of Moslem unbelievers in 
possession of the high places which they regarded 
with such reverence, was simply intolerable and re- 
pugnant beyond description. 

Hence the Crusades undertaken in order to regain 
the Sepulchre ; in which by Papal decree the Monks 
joined the Knights, and under command of emperors 
and the greatest generals of their day, made tempo- 
rary conquest of the Holy Land, founding the king- 
dom of Jerusalem. The immediate outcome of the 
general movement was that alliance, made wise and 
even necessary, when theology and chivalry joined 
hands, from which resulted the foundation of such or- 
ders as those mentioned at the beginning of this pa- 
per. These allies of which they were composed, all 
took the monastic vows of poverty, chastity and 
obedience, and for a time kept them, until the pos- 
session of power and the acquisition of wealth brought 
their inevitably accompanying temptations. Each of 
these orders and many of the others passed through 
the successive stages of poverty, with meekness and 
constant benefaction, succeeded sooner or later by 
temporal aggrandizement, selfishness, greed, and ra- 
pacity, with all the crimes in the calendar, and the 
inevitable ultimate downfall. Of them all the Hos- 
pital Knights bore by all means the least smirched 
record, on which account, partly, as well as because 
of their most prominent purpose, i. e., their work 
among the sick, wounded and distressed, I deem their 
careers worthy of more particular study. 



KNIGHTS OF ST. JOHN 135 

For this purpose we may quickly dismiss the Teu- 
tonic knights from present consideration, simply re- 
minding you that they were really the founders of 
modern Prussia. They had their own origin in the 
commendable public spirit of the merchants of Lii- 
beck and Bremen, who during the siege of Acre made 
tents out of the sails of their ships, in which their 
wounded countrymen might be nursed and attended. 
Most of their active service against the Saracens was 
in Spain. 

Of the Knights Templar a little must be said here. 
About 1 1 19 two Knights, Hugo (or Hugh) of Pay- 
ens, and Godfrey of St. Omers, associated with them- 
selves six other French Knights in a league of mili- 
tary character, styling themselves "Poor Knights of 
Christ," and pledged themselves to keep safe for 
pilgrims the highways of the Holy Land. They pros- 
pered and grew, and came into the favor of Baldwin 
I, king of that kingdom of Jerusalem already men- 
tioned. Inasmuch as their Monastery occupied a part 
of the site of Solomon's temple of old they were 
known as Templars. At the synod of Troyes, in 1 128, 
they were recognized as a regular Order, and received 
monastic rules and habits, with a special banner. 
They were also known as "Poor Companions of the 
Temple of Jerusalem," a name which did not very 
long befit them. At first, like the Hospital Knights, 
they begged their food, fasted, kept vows, worshipped 
diligently, and cared for the poor and infirm. Beard 
and hair were cropped short, the chase was forbid- 



136 KNIGHTS OF ST. JOHN 

den, and they took the usual vows of chastity. But as 
they acquired property they forgot the simple life and 
habit, as well as their vows of obedience and chas- 
tity, while their pledge to protect the pilgrim on his 
way became in time a farce, not alone through their 
indifference and negligence, but through their trea- 
sonable dealings with the Saracens, and even treach- 
erous surrender of their strongholds. 

Thus, whatever their pristine purpose, lucre and 
power became the later objects of their strife and the 
impelling motives of their lives. By the accession of 
so-called "affiliated members" they avoided the rule 
of celibacy, and admitted married knights and those 
engaged to be married. 

Their Grand Masters in time ranked next after 
Popes and Monarchs. While the former favored 
them it was mainly because they feared them. They 
were exempt from all episcopal jurisdiction, and sub- 
ject only to the Pope. So rich and powerful did they 
become that at the time of their suppression they con- 
trolled an Empire of five provinces in the East and 
sixteen in the West, while the Order possessed some 
15,000 houses. They aimed to make all Christen- 
dom dependent upon themselves, with only the Pope 
as their nominal head. 

Of their personal bravery, which was usually im- 
peccable, of their affluence and intolerable effrontery, 
and of many of their traits and characteristics, one 
may form an excellent idea by reading Ivanhoe, where 
these seem to be quite faithfully depicted. It is, to 



KNIGHTS OF ST. JOHN 137 

me I confess, just a little amusing as well as sadden- 
ing to see the men, who name their secret Masonic 
associations after the founders of the Order, display- 
ing and imitating, at least in public where alone they 
can be judged by outsiders, only those features of 
Templar Knighthood which marked the period of 
their decadence or their downfall. As imitations they 
may be historically accurate, but as worthy of emula- 
tion, or even of imitation such displays are 
matters of questionable taste, at least, to those who 
read medieval history. 

The Templars in their days of splendor and later 
downfall, were neither pious, nor learned, nor good 
Christians. Many of their secret doctrines were of 
heretical origin, taken from the Waldenses or the 
Albigenses, and they cared far more for their own 
possessions than for the Holy Land. They promul- 
gated the shameful excuse that God evidently willed 
that the Saracen should win; that the defects of the 
Crusaders were evidently according to His decision, 
and that therefore they were released from their vows, 
and could return to Europe, where indeed they rest- 
ed — after their fashion, — from their labors, and 
passed their time in doing everything their founders 
had vowed not to do. 

But this is not intended to be an epitome of Temp- 
lar history; rather a brief statement of the reasons 
why they went proudly and sometimes stoically to 
their final downfall, and why the Hospital Order, 
though not always keeping up to its earlier standards, 



138 KNIGHTS OF ST. JOHN 

nevertheless so far eclipsed them, as to become the 
recipients of very much of the Templars* enormous 
resources and wealth, being thought worthy to be thus 
entrusted. And so it happened that, in 1307, Philip 
of France had all the Templars in France arrested 
and their property sequestrated. This led to a tri- 
partite dispute in which were involved the Templars, 
the Pope and the King. In 13 10 fifty-four Templar 
Knights were burned alive in Paris. At last the Pope, 
to prevent their property from falling into secular 
hands, made over to the Hospitallers most of the 
Templar estates, excepting however those in Spain. 
The Grand Master Molay and another Templar were 
burned to death on an island in the Seine. 

So much then in brief, for purposes of contrast. 
Now to the avowed subject of this paper. 

During the seventeenth century there rose a contro- 
versy as to the foundation of a hospital already in ex- 
istence in Jerusalem, named after the Asmorean prince 
John Hyrcanus, (the son and successor of Simon 
Maccabaeus, who restored the independence of Judea 
and founded a monarchy over which his descendants 
reigned till the accession of Herod. He died 105 B. 
C). This was at a time when the pious merchants of 
Amalfi planned a refuge for their pilgrims. It was this 
John whom many suppose to have been the patron of 
the order, though it seems now clearly established 
that the first sponsor or the first St. John, in this con- 
nection, was the Greek patriarch John surnamed Elee- 
mon, or the Charitable, because of his practical phil- 



KNIGHTS OF ST. JOHN 139 

anthropy. (See *'St. John the Almsgiver," Rev. H. 
T. F. Duckworth, 1901). But by the time the Cru- 
saders, under Godfrey of Bouillon, had taken Jerusa- 
lem from the Saracens, St. John Baptist seems to have 
become the acknowledged patron saint of the hos- 
pital, his image being worn by epileptic patients, and 
being later adopted as the regular badge for those 
engaged in hospital work. 

But this term hospital must not be regarded in its 
present acceptance ; it was used in a broader sense to 
imply any house of refuge, even from wild animals; 
in fact a hospice. 

This particular hospice seems to have been erected 
on the ruins of one founded by St. Gregory in 603, 
where it is known that the French Benedictines 
worked. Two centuries later Charlemagne had claim- 
ed the title of Protector of the Pilgrims. ("De Prime 
Origine Hospitaliorum," by La Roulx. Paris. 1885). 

This institution was naturally located in close prox- 
imity to the most sacred places, which early Christian 
traditions made such to the pilgrims who came from 
all over Western Europe. It was in existence in 
1099. It was made doubly necessary by not only the 
hardships of travel, but by the ill usage of the na- 
tives, at a time when the Holy City was in the hands 
of the Moslems, who demanded an entrance fee often 
beyond the pilgrims' means. Thus subjected to in- 
dignities indescribable, robbed often before their ar- 
rival, these misguided pilgrims often died of want, 
or returned with their primary pious object unat- 



I40 KNIGHTS OF ST. JOHN 

tained. Had it not been for one Gerard, the first ad- 
ministrator of the hospice, their hardships had been 
even greater. 

The buildings of the Order, at first meagre, were 
finally enlarged to cover a square, nearly 500 ft. on 
each side, with one side on the Via Dolorosa and 
another fronting the Bazaar, and all a little south of 
the Church of the Holy Sepulchre. Nearby were oth- 
er churches and hospices. This was the arrangement 
before the establishment of the kingdom of Jerusa- 
lem in 1099. During the next century the Order, 
under Raymond du Puy, had enlarged the church of 
St. John Eleemon into the conventual church of St. 
John Baptist, while along the south of the square 
above mentioned ran an excellent building, the hos- 
pital of St. John. When Saladin recaptured Jerusa- 
lem, in 1 187, this church was converted by the Turks 
into a mad-house, known as the "Muristan," this be- 
ing finally ceded to Germany in 1869. 

From the new kingdom of Jerusalem the Hospi- 
tallers obtained a constitution, and the Gerard above 
mentioned was made their first "Master.'' He was 
succeeded in 1 1 1 8 by du Puy, while Baldwin II was 
the Latin King of Jerusalem. The Hospital had been 
recognized by the Archbishop of Caesarca in 11 12, 
and had widely extended its sphere of usefulness. 
It was King Baldwin who was anxious to stamp upon 
the Order a military character, similar to that confer- 
red upon the Order of the Temple in 1130. This 
was natural since the kingdom was isolated, surround- 



KNIGHTS OF ST. JOHN 141 

ed by fanatic enemies and always beset by and In 
danger from them. Thus the necessities of the times 
and the environment made It requisite that all who 
were able should bear arms, and cooperate for mu- 
tual defence. 

Thus it came about that the Order was divided 
Into three divisions, the first In rank being the 
Knights of Justice, each of whom must be of noble 
rank or birth, and have received the accolade of 
knighthood from secular authority. The second di- 
vision comprised the ecclesiastics, who were later di- 
vided into two grades, the Conventual Chaplains, 
who were assigned to duty at headquarters, and the 
Priests of Obedience who served other priories and 
commanderles in various parts of Europe. The third 
grade were the Serving Brothers, also divided into 
the Servants at arms or Esquires, and the Servants at 
office. The Servants at arms attended the Knights of 
Justice as their Esquires, and might eventually be- 
come eligible to the first division. The Servants at 
office were little if anything more than menials or do- 
mestics. Even these latter, however, possessed cer- 
tain privileges and emoluments which made admis- 
sion to this grade advantageous to men of humble ori- 
gin and faculties. 

The dress of the Order was a black robe with cowl, 
having a white linen cross of eight points over the left 
breast, and was at first worn by all. Later, under 
Pope Alexander IV, the fighting knights wore their 
white crosses upon a ground gules. 



142 KNIGHTS OF ST. JOHN 

The first recorded appearance of a body of Hos- 
pitaller knights in actual war was at Antioch, in 1 1 19, 
while the complete military constitution of the Order 
of St. John was achieved in 1128. During the bal- 
ance of the existence of the Kingdom of Jerusalem 
then, two colleges or companies of military monastic 
knights existed, side by side, in the Holy Land, the 
"chief props of a tottering throne." (Bedford). 
Between these rival bodies arose in time such jealousy, 
and within them such intrigues, — aggravated always 
by the animosities of the ordinary clergy, who took 
offense at the patronage bestowed upon the orders by 
the Popes, aggravated also by similar difficulties on 
the part of the knights of the Teutonic Order and 
that of St. Lazarus, — that the best interests of the 
kingdom and of the Church suffered as much from 
intestine dangers as from those arising from the Mos- 
lems surrounding them. Nevertheless it may be said 
that the Order of the Hospital never lost sight of its 
primary purposes, and never disgraced itself by the 
treasonable and treacherous dealings, and correspond- 
ence with enemies which disgraced not a few members 
of other and rival Christian organizations. 

The result of such disreputable actions lead — as 
ever — to disunion and final disruption, and this to 
final capitulation and surrender of Jerusalem, in 1 1 87. 
This meant the abandonment not only of their old 
home, but of their usefulness there. The Saracens 
occupied their buildings and premises from that time 
till ruin overtook them. Thus rudely compelled to 



KNIGHTS OF ST. JOHN 143 

emigrate the Order moved the same year (1187) ^^ 
the town of Margat, where was also a castle of the 
same name. But the work In Jerusalem had not been 
abruptly discontinued, since Sultan Saladin, in evi- 
dence of his esteem, allowed them possession of their 
hospital for another year, in order that their charit- 
able work should not be abruptly Interrupted, and 
even made them liberal donations. When during the 
third Crusade, in which Richard Coeur de Lion bore 
so valiant a part, Ptolemals was captured. It was then 
and there that the Order established its headquarters, 
in 1 192, wherefore the town became named St. Jean 
d'Acre. Here they abode nearly a century. 

Various other towns in Palestine held out for a 
time against the Turks, e. g., Carac, Margat, Castel 
Blanco and Antloch, and in spite of the intense rival- 
ry between the Orders, Thierry, the Grand Master of 
the Templars, reported in a letter to King Henry II, 
that the Hospitallers bore themselves even with fer- 
vor and the greatest bravery, and praised the aid they 
gave In the capture of the Turkish fleet, at Tyre, 
when seventeen Christian galleys manned by friars, 
and ten Sicilian vessels commanded by General Mar- 
garit, a Catalan, defeated the Infidels, and captured 
their admiral and eight Emirs, with eleven ships, the 
rest being run aground, where Saladin later burned 
them, to keep them from falling Into Christian hands. 
(Bedford). 

Notwithstanding all this, however, the joint occu- 
pation of Acre with the Templars had a bad effect 



144 KNIGHTS OF ST. JOHN 

on both Orders, who turned not only to luxury and 
license, but their swords against each other. Acre 
was at this time a most cosmopolitan city; here 
mingled at least seventeen different nationalities and 
languages, each occupying its own part of the city, 
so that in time extravagance and lust flourished to the 
last degree of demoralization. The Hospitallers 
were at this time far more wealthy than the Temp- 
lars, who were exceedingly jealous thereof, and both 
at Mar gat and still worse at Acre this jealousy was 
exhibited in many bloody affairs. Weakened thus by 
this intestine strife they were in reverse proportion 
strengthened. The Pope who had defended them as 
against the scathing censure of Emperor Frederick, 
found need, in 1238, to accuse the knights — alike of 
both orders — of sheltering loose women within their 
precincts, of owning individual property, both of 
these in violation of their vows of chastity and po- 
verty, and of treacherously assisting the enemy. Yet 
many bore witness to the actual good they accom- 
plished, even at this time. In 1259 Pope Alexander, 
bewailing the lack of a more distinctive dress, permit- 
ted the decree that the fighting knights might wear 
black mantles, while in war they were permitted to 
wear red surcoats, with a white cross. 

Later it was permitted to women to join the Order, 
and many ladies of high degree took advantage of 
the permission, rivalling in religious zeal and in char- 
itable deeds the most sanctified of the brethren. As 
the King of Hungary wrote, at one time, after visit- 



KNIGHTS OF ST. JOHN 145 

*^ng some of their houses, "In a word the Knights of 
St. John are employed, sometimes like Mary in con- 
templation, and sometimes like Martha in action, and 
this noble militia consecrate their days either in their 
infirmaries or else In engagements against the enemies 
of the cross." 

The deterioration of Acre was not so great as to 
make cowards of our Knights, however, and with the 
continued and aggressive siege laid by the Saracens 
against that city the Hospitallers and the Templars 
finally made common cause, each endeavoring to out- 
do the other In deeds of bravery and daring. Though 
defeated again and again, the Moslem ranks were re- 
newed by fresh soldiers, while the militant and other 
monks imprisoned within the city saw their com- 
bined members steadily diminish. At last it remained 
for John Villlers, Grand Master, with his few sur- 
viving fighters, to carve their way to their boats, leav- 
ing no combatants behind them, and then to embark in 
their galleys to seek a harbor of refuge In the Island 
of Cyprus. 

Cyprus and Rhodes. Settled in Cyprus, the Knights 
renewed their zeal and their resources. Here they 
began to build that fleet of galleys which, increased 
later In Rhodes, became most formidable. When they 
and the Templars left forever the Holy Land the 
Templars took the position that their vow to protect 
the holy places was now either fulfilled or at least 
at an end, and they distributed themselves among 
their numerous preceptories all over Europe, where 



146 KNIGHTS OF ST. JOHN 

they made themselves personae non gratae to their 
civil rulers, because of their own real power, their ori- 
ental ostentation, and their secularization and distaste- 
ful entrance into and interference with the social and 
political life and customs of their new environment. 
Things went from bad to worse, public feeling was 
more and more aroused, and their extermination was 
only a matter of time. Finally Pope Clement V and 
King Phillip le Bel undertook this task with barbar- 
ous ruthlessness. Kings, nobility and the people joined 
hands in the common task. The Templars had ac- 
quired various properties, by capture, by bequest, and 
in every lawful and unlawful manner, which yielded 
in the aggregate relatively enormous revenues, too 
strong a temptation for needy secular rulers to resist. 
The Pope had at last to intervene in order to prevent 
the total secularization of all this great spoil, and thus 
it happened that no small proportion of it was, after 
its sequestration, allotted to the Order of St. John, 
whose Grand Masters and Knights had not forgotten 
nor abandoned their original vows and purposes, and 
who held that the inviolacy of their obligations re- 
quired their continuous residence in some such ori- 
ental city as Rhodes. 

And here we may part company, as did they, only 
quite peacefully, with the Templar Knights. Driven 
from Europe they made their last stand in Great 
Britain, and of their lives and deeds there we have no 
more readable nor interesting historical account than 
Scott has given us in Ivanhoe. Any further allusion 



KNIGHTS OF ST. JOHN 147 

to them here will be most casual. They offer the con- 
ventional picture, only in extenso, of original poverty 
and self-abnegation, coupled with devotion and valor, 
changed to arrogance, treason, abandonment of pur- 
pose, unbridled lawlessness leading to crime and cru- 
elty, all brought about because of affluence, acquired 
power, selfishness, cupidity and every debasing human 
weakness. Small wonder then, that they could be no 
longer tolerated in Christendom. 

So turn we again to the Hospitallers, now made 
rich and powerful at the expense of their old rivals 
and at last enemies. It had soon been made evident 
that Cyprus did not meet their wants and necessities. 
Its king was not over friendly, and they sought furth- 
er. Their gaze fixed on the island of Rhodes, which 
possessed a fertile soil, a city with an excellent har- 
bor, not too far from the main land, i. e. not too iso- 
lated, which was under the — by that time merely 
nominal — suzerainty of the Emperor of the Eastern 
or Greek empire. After several futile efforts they at 
last, in 13 10, under the twenty- fourth Grand Master 
Villaret, captured the island, where under their cease- 
less energy both hospitals and forts were built. To 
Rhodes were brought also Christian refugees from 
the various Turkish provinces, and thus their num- 
bers were rapidly strengthened. Their fleet, already 
begun (vide supra) was greatly increased, and with 
it they had many a conflict with the Turkish corsairs, 
whose inroads they practically checked. 

About the beginning of the fourteenth century 



148 KNIGHTS OF ST. JOHN 

changes had been made in the Order, which was now 
divided into Langues, or arranged according to na- 
tionalities, yet without materially altering the original 
division into the three classes (Knights, Chaplains 
and Serving Brothers). In this way the Order was 
apportioned between seven nations or languages, 
Provence, Auvergne, France, Italy, Aragon, England 
and Germany. Finally under pressure from Spain 
the Langue of Aragon was divided into two, Aragon 
and Castile, the latter including Portugal. The vari- 
ous dignities and offices were divided among these 
langues, whose principals became a kind of Privy 
Council to the Grand Master, and were known as 
Conventual Bailiffs. They were given different names 
in each country; thus the Grand Commander of the 
English langue was known as the Turcopolier, of 
France the Grand Hospitaller, of Italy the Admiral, 
etc. As the new fortifications arose around the city 
of Rhodes, each was placed in charge of one of these 
langues or divisions, while each erected quarters for 
its own men. It did not follow, however, that every 
member of each langue came from the country which 
it represented. While Scotland was an independent 
kingdom it contributed to the Turcopolier, while 
many Scotchmen belonged to the French or even the 
other langues. At this time the inhabitants of the 
City of Rhodes consisted largely of Christian refu- 
gees, who owed their security, even their lives, to the 
fact that the Knights Hospitaller still adhered to 
their primary objects, the liberation of the captive 



KNIGHTS OF ST. JOHN 149 

and giving assistance to the sick and distressed. This 
they afforded through their fleet and their hospices. 
When Smyrna nearly fell into the hands of Timour 
the Tartar, about the middle of the fourteenth cen- 
tury, the Order strengthened their harbor by erecting 
a new fort, which they named Budrum (corrupted 
from Petros-a Rock), where any Christian escaping 
from slavery found shelter. Here was also kept a re- 
markable breed of dogs, who were trained not only as 
watch dogs but to render services similar to those 
afforded by the Alpine dogs of St. Bernard. 

As time went on the Sultans became more and 
more jealous of the naval power possessed by the Or- 
der. With the fall of the Eastern Empire and the 
final retaking of Constantinople by Mahomet II, in 
1453 (See "Prince of India"), it was made evident 
that danger to the Order from this direction was rap- 
idly increasing. This became so urgent that in 
1470, after Mahomet had taken the island of Ne- 
gropont, the Grand Master commanded that all mem- 
bers of the Order should repair at once to Rhodes. 
In 1476 d'Aubusson began the most active measures 
for the defense of the place, and thus was ready for 
the attack, in May, 1480, when 80,000 men in 160 
ships, landed on the island coast. In this siege no 
small part was played by renegade traitors, the most 
prominent being one George Frapant, a German, 
whom the Grand Master finally hung in July. In 
the last sorties which terminated this siege deeds of 
the greatest bravery were performed ; yet here wc can 



150 KNIGHTS OF ST. JOHN 

only commemorate the fact that the Turks were sum- 
marily defeated, leaving 3,500 corpses on the ground 
after the last decisive attack. The losses of the be- 
sieged were small as compared with those suffered by 
the Turks. 

Later in the same year the island suffered from a 
severe earthquake. Mahomet died not long after this, 
was succeeded by his son Bo-jazet who made truce 
with the Order, presenting them with a relic of sup- 
posedly inestimable value, namely the hand of St. 
John, which the Turks had taken at Constantinople. 

Years of comparative quietude succeeded until in 
the following century, in 1522, Solyman the Mag- 
nificent landed upon the island in July, with 100,000 
soldiers and 60,000 pioneers. Again ensued all the 
horrors of a siege. The defenders did their part so 
bravely that the Sultan publicly disgraced his gen- 
erals. But the inevitable famine wrought consequent 
disaffection on the part of the native population, who 
clamored for capitulation, and sought treasonable 
terms therefor, because of which one of the most 
prominent of them was tried, found guilty and exe- 
cuted. Finally under stress of circumstances no 
longer endurable Grand Master Adam agreed to hon- 
orable surrender, and on the first of January, 1523, 
the Hospitaller Knights relinquished the island, the 
Sultan himself speaking in terms of extravagant praise 
of their heroism, while at the same time he scath- 
ingly censured the Christian monarchs of Europe 
who had failed to come to their relief. Thus after 



KNIGHTS OF ST. JOHN 151 

two hundred and twenty years of occupation and rule 
of the island of Rhodes, some 5,000 Knights and oth- 
er members of the Order, and natives, left it to take 
abode for a short time in their Priory at Messina. 
Driven from here by plague, they moved on to Viter- 
bo, while their Grand Master travelled in search of a 
new home. 

Maltn, Malta had been early proposed for this 
purpose, and offered by Charles V, while many wishes 
turned to the city of Modon, in Greece. After seven 
years of wandering and indecision Grand Master 
L'Isle Adam accepted Malta as the best solution of 
the difficulty. Thither the Order now removed, and 
there Adam died in the Castle of St. Angelo, erected 
by the Norman Count Roger of Sicily, still active in 
improving its existing defences. In 1555 the Order 
lost nearly all of its fleet in consequence of a violent 
hurricane, which accident for a while laid the island 
open to piratical attacks, especially of a corsair named 
Dragut ; but he did little damage, save that with the 
knowledge of the island and its defences thus gained 
he persuaded Solyman to undertake another attempt 
to crush the Order, the latter being justly furious be- 
cause some galleys belonging to the Order had cap- 
tured a ship that happened to be loaded with rich 
valuables belonging to the ladies of his harem. There- 
fore war was again declared in 1565. 

The Turkish fleet was made up of 130 galleys with 
50 smaller boats, and carried the Janissaries and 34,- 
000 other soldiers, against whom the Grand Master 



152 KNIGHTS OF ST. JOHN 

could only oppose some 9,000 men,7oo of whom, how- 
ever, were desperate men, released from the galleys 
of the enemy, and eager for vengeance. On May 
twenty-fourth the siege of St. Elmo was in reality be- 
gun by a fierce bombardment, the walls being soon 
battered, and the garrison forced to take shelter in 
excavations made in the solid rock. And now the 
besiegers' force was augmented by the arrival of 
Dragut, in those days the dreaded corsair of the sea, 
who came with thirteen more ships and 1,500 more 
men. June thirteenth saw a desperate conflict when, 
after six hours of fierce fighting and the loss of only 
300 men, the besiegers were repulsed. Soon after this 
Dragut was killed. Again on June twenty-third anoth- 
er general attack was repulsed, though the garrison 
was thereby reduced to 60 men. Even this small 
force, many crippled and maimed, repulsed the first 
onslaught of the Turks, but had later to sell their lives 
as dearly as they could. 

The Turkish general Mustapha took barbarous re- 
venge, even on the corpses of the Knights which he 
decapitated and then tied to planks that they might 
float past St. Angelo. La Vallette retaliated by be- 
heading some of his captives and firing their heads 
at the Turks from his cannon. 

At this juncture the garrison was reinforced by the 
arrival of 700 men and 42 Knights from Sicily. Re- 
fusing all opportunities to surrender and all parley un- 
der flags of truce. Grand Master La Vallette built 
new defences and strengthened the old, in spite of a 



KNIGHTS OF ST. JOHN 153 

fierce July sun. Meanwhile the Turks, also rein- 
forced, prepared for still more desperate sorties, se- 
lecting for the land attack men who knew not how to 
swim, in order that they might fight the more fierce- 
ly, and drawing off the boats as soon as their loads 
were emptied, so that no retreat could be possible. 
One thousand Janissaries were embarked in ten large 
barges, but nine of these were sunk by the artillery 
fire from the forts. On the other side of the defences 
a large attacking column was completely routed. The 
loss to the Turks this day was 3,000 men, that of the 
garrison 250. 

And so the siege went on; attack after attack, with 
but small success to the investing army. But the 
heroic defenders suffered increasingly under the con- 
stant strain, and both armies were exhausted, the 
Turks losing 800 men from dysentery alone. To 
such an extent was this true that when the Turkish 
officers drove their soldiers to the charge by blows of 
their own swords, it was but necessary to cut down 
those who led the charges, when the rest would turn 
and fly. 

And now came other long expected reinforcements 
from Sicily, when a fleet landed 8,500 men and re- 
turned for 4,000 more. Being now quite unequal to 
the continuation of the siege the Turks evacuated all 
the ground they had gained, and finally made a hasty 
and complete flight, harassed in every way, in their 
endeavors to escape, by the now victorious garrison. 

The losses during the period of siege, with its nu- 



154 KNIGHTS OF ST. JOHN 

merous engagements, were estimated at some 30,000 
Turks, and 8,000 men and 260 Knights of the Or- 
der. Is it strange that by contributions from all over 
Christian Europe there was soon built up a town bear- 
ing the name of Valetta, thus commemorating the 
heroism and military prowess of the Order's Grand 
Master La Valette, as well as the "glorious issue" of 
the struggle for Malta, and the confirmation of the 
Order as a sovereign independent community? 

Thus secured from further probable struggle this 
city of Valetta acquired a certain degree of glory, 
later even of magnificence. From all parts of Europe, 
wherever any commandery of the Order was main- 
tained, was paid tribute to the Grand Master, as may 
be adjudged even to-day, long after French rapacity 
had robbed the city of many of its treasures. Indi- 
vidual Knights vied with each other in their gifts, 
and palaces arose wherein were received the envoys 
and even ambassadors of foreign courts. The fleet 
was constantly busied in clearing the Mediterranean 
of Moslem and other pirates, and many Christians 
were released from the galleys in which they had been 
chained to the oars. 

In this restoration the English langue took a rath- 
er small part, and their officers and members had of- 
ten to be rebuked or punished for insubordination or 
worse crimes. The Reformation in England inter- 
fered, and furnished some reason for their diminish- 
ing zeal. The galleys of the Order became more and 
more like pleasure boats, and many of their cruises 



KNIGHTS OF ST. JOHN 155 

were In effect pleasure excursions. Later In their de- 
cadence their adventures became more like piratical 
Incursions, until, under letters of marque Issued by a 
decadent Admiralty, the Malta privateer was equiv- 
alent to the pirate. (Maroyat). These facts were 
scarcely offset by that other, that the last fleet of the 
Order, which left Valetta In 1783, was sent to the 
relief of earthquake sufferers In Sicily. 

With regard to their activities In the matter of suc- 
coring the sick let It be noted that the Knights found 
on their arrival at Malta a hospital or hospice al- 
ready existing. In the buildings of a nunnery still 
standing may be seen the gateway of their own first 
hospital. In 1575 they erected one much larger, 
which had a passageway connected with the water- 
front, so that patients could be brought directly from 
the ships. This building In some part still remains In 
use as a military hospital. Its great ward Is 500 feet 
In length, and 30 feet high, divided by partitions 15 
feet In height. In Its best days patients were served 
from silver utensils. It was under the charge of the 
Regent of the French Knights, who had as his staff 
five doctors and three apothecaries. Other knights 
and servants acted as male nurses. The knights were 
luxuriously cared for, and 150 beds were always In 
reserve for those returning from expeditions who 
might need them. 

In 1796, only a year before the disintegration of 
the Order began, the patients numbered from 350 to 
400. There existed also a hospital for women, with 



156 KNIGHTS OF ST. JOHN 

230 beds, and a foundling hospital where some fifty 
waifs were sheltered. 

A curious bit of history connecting the middle ages 
with the more recent past relates to the hospital inter- 
ests of the Order. The nobles of Dauphigny had 
founded a fraternity of Hospitallers for the relief of 
sufferers from St. Anthony's fire (erysipelas), which 
was erected into the regular Antoine order in 12 18. 
About 550 years later, or to be exact in 1777, a com- 
pact was made by which the Order of St. John took 
over their property, under certain conditions, which 
involved, among other considerations, a larger ex- 
penditure. The Antonine estates, in France and Sa- 
voy, were confiscated in 1792, thus entailing a tre- 
mendous loss to the Order, so great, in fact that the 
Valetta treasury became insolvent. (Bedford). From 
this time we may date the rapid downfall of the Or- 
der. Malcontents and traitors gained the suprem- 
acy, and in 1798, after treacherous negotiations. Na- 
poleon landed part of his army in Malta, and Valetta 
surrendered. 

Thus, as Bartlett says, "ignominiously came to a 
close, on June 12th, 1798, the once illustrious Order 
of St. John of Jerusalem, having subsisted for more 
than 700 years." 

At this time it consisted of 328 enrolled knights, 
and a military force of some 7,000 men. 

Napoleon expressed his surprise at the strength of 
the fortifications, furnished them with one thousand 
cannon, left a garrison of 3,000 men, took with him 



KNIGHTS OF ST. JOHN 157 

the disciplined soldiers he found there, rifled the is- 
land of its treasures, its art work and its bullion, and 
sailed for Egypt. Several of the traitor knights were 
put to death by the infuriated populace, whose anger 
was not appeased by Nelson's victory at Aboukir — 
the battle of the Nile — but took form in open insur- 
rection. The French garrison finally took refuge in 
the old fortifications, where they withstood for two 
years a siege by the combined insurgents and an Eng- 
lish fleet. Finally reduced by famine and disease they 
capitulated to the English forces under Gen. Pigot. 
The latter then selected Capt. Sir Alexander Ball, 
Nelson's representative. Governor of the Island. At 
the Peace of Amiens the effort was made to restore 
the Order as ruling authority, under the protectorate 
of the Great Powers, but the Maltese themselves ob- 
jected so vehemently that after no small amount of 
trouble and dispute the inhabitants of the island elect- 
ed to place themselves under the sovereignty of Great 
Britain, an arrangement finally and definitely con- 
firmed at the Congress of Vienna in 18 14. 

Thus disappeared from history one of the most in- 
teresting and longest enduring institutions recorded in 
its pages, and certainly the most long-lived of any of 
its kind. I say disappeared, meaning thereby only to 
indicate its disruption, as it were into fragments, its 
primary purpose, i. e. aid to the needy, being kept ever 
in view by some, while others preferring the life of a 
soldier, took service under various rulers or military 
leaders. The traitors who were responsible for sur- 



158 KNIGHTS OF ST. JOHN 

render to Napoleon fared badly according to their 
deserts, though it does not appear that any of them 
were hung. In the migration England seemed to at- 
tract many, perhaps the majority of those who were 
still inclined to good deeds. The title of Grand Mas- 
ter was still continued, under some pretension to per- 
petuation of the Order. In Russia the Czar Alexan- 
ander, in 1801, upon the death of his predecessor 
Paul, announced himself a Protector of the Order, 
and designated Count Soltikoff to exercise the func- 
tions of the Grand Master. 

Thus dismembered, disunited and scattered, the 
fragmentary langues of the Order underwent, on 
their way to final dissolution, various vicissitudes, 
through which they cannot here be followed. Com- 
plete extinguishment was the eventual fate of most of 
them. I shall only concern myself now with that of 
the English langue, and its partial revival in 1830. 

Rev. Dr. Peat, chaplain to George IV, was one of 
those to whom the remnants of the English langue 
appealed, with the result that in 1827 certain notable 
English gentry, of eminent attainments, undertook to 
revive the Order in England, only under quite dif- 
ferent conditions from those previously obtaining. In 
1 83 1 Dr. Peat was invested with the authority and 
functions of Grand Prior. It will be at once seen 
how the matter of religious belief now separated the 
English Order from all the survivors of the previous 
regime, and why the last ties were severed. 

Under the new regime members of the Order drop- 



KNIGHTS OF ST. JOHN 159 

ped all pretense of playing a military role; one may 
read thereafter of real hospital activity. The Life 
Boat movement and ambulance work were gradually 
incorporated Into their plans and scope. When First 
Aid to the Injured began to be publicly taught public 
and general Interest was quickly aroused, and the en- 
ergetic cooperation of eminent men was assured. In 
other words the Order gradually took up just that 
class of work which Is now done under the Red Cross. 
Sir Edward Lechmere established, In 1867, a com- 
mandery of the Order In one of his castles, and In 
1874 was instrumental in the acquisition of the St. 
John Gate, which still stands, an example of Tudor 
architecture as also a well preserved monumental 
relic of the time, beginning about 1 180, when the Or- 
der had founded a hospital In Clerkenwell, while the 
ladies of the order were housed In Bucland, In Somer- 
setshire. The old Priory of the Order In Clerken- 
well was practically destroyed in 138 1, by the mob 
led by Jack Straw, in an insurrection which had, along 
with other results, as an incident, the beheading of Sir 
Robert Hales, the Prior of the Order. In the slow 
process of rebuilding the present Gate was not com- 
pleted till 1504. On the North and South fronts 
remain projecting towers, while In the Western tower 
a spiral stair case Is still In use. Bedford's work, 
from which I have drawn heavily, gives excellent pic- 
tures of the Gate as it appears to-day, and of the old 
priory restored. 

Colonel Duncan, also, deserves honorable mention 



i6o KNIGHTS OF ST. JOHN 

in this connection; he became Director of the Am- 
bulance Movement In 1875. Finally we have to 
record here that under a new Charter, granted In 
1888, the then Prince of Wales, later King Edward, 
became the Grand Prior. Therefore the Order of 
the Hospital, in England of St. John of Jerusalem 
is, in fact, the legitimate successor — one might say 
the lineal descendant — of the old Order of Knights 
Hospitaller, though It is to-day a secular and volun- 
tary society, keeping to the traditions of the past, no 
longer military nor militant, save as It fights disease 
and best of all teaches others how to do the same. 
To follow It further Is no longer necessary. Its work 
Is essentially that of the Red Cross. It has, for in- 
stance, a depot at old St. John's Gate, whence all the 
material required In teaching and Illustrating as well 
as rendering first aid Is Issued. Its work was begun 
with a two-wheeled litter, an old Esmarch triangular 
bandage from Germany, and a stretcher from France. 
Now It distributes all these things throughout the 
British Empire. Now, too. It maintains ambulances 
all over the city of London, which do for their own 
hospitals just what each of our hospitals at home has 
to do for itself. The German "Samarlter-Verein" 
Is virtually a Chapter of the English Order In its re- 
vivified form. In 1883 a branch of the Order was 
organized in India, where among others the native 
police are Instructed In "First Aid.'' In 1882, by a 
Firman of the Turkish Sultan, an Ophthalmic Hos- 
pital was opened, under the auspices of the Order, In 



KNIGHTS OF ST. JOHN i6i 

Jerusalem. Only those who have travelled in the 
East can appreciate what this means to the poor, 
where squalor vies with ignorance, and, as in Egypt 
though not so universally, both conspire to the ruin of 
that greatest of all blessings — eyesight. 

But I will not delay to write further of what the 
Ambulance Brigade of London, and its affiliated 
corps, have accomplished in many parts of the world; 
in South Africa, for example, it works under the gen- 
eral supervision of the Order of St. John, as it now 
exists in London. It does everything that in our 
country is accomplished by the Red Cross for the gen- 
eral public, and by the Hospital Corps and their Med- 
ical Officers for our Army and Navy. Over the graves 
of eleven members of the brigade, who died at their 
posts in South Africa, in St. Paul's, London, not far 
from the crypts where lie the remains of Nelson and 
Wellington, has been erected a monument to their 
memory. Another bearing among other inscriptions 
this beautiful scriptural quotation: — "Greater love 
hath no man than this, that he lay down his life for 
his friends, "was uneviled by His Royal Highness, act- 
ing as Grand Prior, in St. John's Church, Clerken- 
well, June i ith, 1902. Fifteen hundred men enrolled 
in the Order had left that church before their de- 
parture for the Front, and of these about seventy 
sacrificed their lives to this sort of duty. Do not the 
dead deserve all praise and respect, and the survivors 
all commendation? 

A few years ago my friend Sir George Beatson, 



1 62 KNIGHTS OF ST. JOHN 

surgeon to the Royal Infirmary in Glasgow, published 
a little monograph — "The Knights Hospitallers in 
Scotland and their Priory at Torphichen" (Printed 
by Hedderwick and Sons, Glasgow,) — ^which aroused 
my interest sufficiently to prompt a visit to this, the 
last home of the old Order in that part of the world. 
The little village Torphichen lies about midway be- 
tween Glasgow and Edinburgh, and three miles south 
from the town of Llinlithgow. Here had been found- 
ed, in 1 1 24, one of the great Priories or Preceptories 
under control of the English langue. Here they set- 
tled in a magnificent and fertile area, the Grampian 
hills to their north; to their west could be seen the 
snow-capped top of what is now known as Ben Lo- 
mond. By donation, by cultivation of the arable 
soil, and by wise management of their resources, they 
prospered greatly, from the worldly point of view. 
Here they erected that building, a part of which still 
exists, and which makes a picturesque ruin which is 
not yet a scene of desolation. 

The members of the Order took, here as elsewhere, 
the view that the best way to serve God was by re- 
maining in it and working, not by fleeing from it 
into lazy, selfish and profitless solitude as did too 
many of the monks. 

In common with other monasteries the Torphichen 
Preceptory possessed the Right of Sanctuary, and in 
its churchyard still stands the short stone pillar, carved 
w'th a Maltese cross on its upper surface, which 
meant that within a mile in every direction therefrom 



KNIGHTS OF ST. JOHN 163 

all those charged with any crime, save murder only, 
might find temporary protection. 

Here for four hundred years, and until the Refor- 
mation upset everything, the Hospitallers carried on 
their affairs. In 1560 their last Preceptor or Grand 
Prior made over to the Crown all their properties and 
effects. The Crown in return made these possessions 
a temporal Barony, carrying with it the title of Lord 
of Torphichen. From this time the property began 
to suffer — from time, storm, vandalism of the people 
and neglect. Still the present Lord Torphichen has 
proven himself a better guardian than did some of his 
predecessors. A parish church has been built, partly 
upon the sight of the old structure, partly into it. Dr. 
Beatson has urged that a combination between the 
present Order of St. John, in London, and the St. An- 
drew's Ambulance Association might be effected 
which might work to the benefit of both, by reviving 
some of the work done here in days gone by. 

I have ventured this brief reference to Torphichen, 
partly because of my interest in the place itself, asso- 
ciated with my visit there, and partly because every 
such visit to the monuments of past grandeur and use- 
fulness should strengthen our interest and zeal in 
what man is accomplishing to-day, and should help 
link together the Past and the Present in a manner 
not merely fascinating but inspirational, and keep us 
from forgetting that motto of the Order, 

*Tro utilitate Hominum" 
For the Welfare of Mankind. 



VII 

GIORDANO BRUNO 

THE Renaissance was the fourth of the great 
events in the history of the Christian Era ; 
the first being the decline of Rome, the 
second the introduction of the Christian 
cult, and the third, the intrusion into Southern Eu- 
rope of the Teutonic and Slavonic tribes. With none 
of these however, save the fourth, is this paper pri- 
marily concerned, and not even with the fourth save 
indirectly, though it deals with a special feature of 
it. Protestants and Catholics alike impeded progress 
and the self-evolution of reason in every possible way. 
Italy gave the world the Roman Republic, then the 
Roman Empire and finally the Roman Church ; after 
that arose a new storm centre in the North which 
swept toward the Mediterranean. The Teutons 
effaced the Western Empire, adopted Christianity, and 
completely modified what remained of Latin civiliza- 
tion. Then the Roman Bishops separated the Latin 
from the Greek Church, and under the captious title 
of The Holy Roman Empire bound Western Eu- 
rope into what has been called a ''cohesive whole." 
While Romans and Teutons never actually blended 
homogeneously, they had yet a common bond of 
union. When this coalition was for a time freed from 
both Papacy and Empire — then began intellectual ac- 

164 



GIORDANO BRUNO 165 

tivity and Independence of thought, taking form in 
Italy as the Renaissance; in Germany as the Refor- 
mtaion. In the South it was known as the Revival of 
Learning. It furnished a lux a non lucendo. Italy 
gave freedom rather to the mind, Germany rather to 
the soul. Toward the South men still took refuge be- 
hind that form of modified paganism which became 
Catholicism. In the North they attained a more com- 
plete emancipation because of their violent opposition 
to the Papacy and all that went with it. 

In the long run both attained the same result, i. e., 
liberation of the mind from artificial impediments and 
fetters, though they of the North achieved it in its 
full extent far earlier. (I am speaking of course, 
relatively; men's minds are far from free even to- 
day, but the state we have reached is a great advance 
upon that of Bruno's time). The Reformation led 
men to be far more outspoken than they dared be in 
the South; the free thinkers of Italy were still con- 
tent to do homage to a thoroughly corrupt Papal 
hierarchy. As critics and warriors Luther and Cal- 
vin rank as liberators of the human mind, but later, 
as founders of mutually hostile sects, they only retard- 
ed civilization, and the churches they founded are to- 
day as stagnant pools. 

In 1548, in the midst of this stormy period in 
Italian history Bruno was born, in the little village 
of Nola, not far from Naples, whence Vesuvius was 
visible in the picturesque distance. His father was a 
soldier, his mother of very humble origin. Of his 



1 66 GIORDANO BRUNO 

family history nothing is known ; little explanation Is 
thus afforded, by the doctrine of heredity, for the 
marvelous mental faculties which he subsequently dis- 
played. Nevertheless his father was a man of some 
culture, at least, for he was a friend of Tansillo, a 
poet, under whose influence the growing boy subse- 
quently came. Bruno has told us himself how one 
Savolino (probably an uncle) annually confessed his 
sins to his Cure, of which "though many and great" 
his boon companion readily absolved him. But only 
once was full confession necessary; each subsequent 
year Savolino would say: 'Tadre mio, the sins of a 
year — to-day, — you may know them;" to which the 
Cure would reply "son, thou knowest the absolution of 
one year ago; — go in peace, and sin no more." 

In those days as in many others superstition was 
everywhere rife and effective. Its influence must not 
be disregarded as one studies the formation of Bru- 
no's character. 

When he was about eleven years old Bruno was 
sent to Naples to be taught logic, dialectics and hu- 
manities. When fifteen he entered the Dominican 
Monastery in Naples, and assumed the clerical habit 
of that order. Here he gave up his baptismal name 
of Fillppo and assumed that of Giordano, according 
to the monastic custom. In 1572 he was ordained 
priest. 

His reasons for thus entering the Church are 
scarcely far to seek. Of intellectual bent, and studi- 
ous rather than martial in his habits and inclinations, 



GIORDANO BRUNO 167 

there was but one career open to him. To be sure the 
Dominican Order was the most narrow and most big- 
otted of all, as the current punning expression ^'Dom- 
ini canes'' will indicate. Still it was at that time the 
most powerful, especially in the kingdom of Naples, 
which was then ruled by Spain. The old cloister had 
been once the home of St. Thomas Aquinas, whose 
works Bruno claimed at his trial he had always by 
him, "continually reading, studying and restudying 
them, and holding them dear." 

This was the age when efforts to put down every 
heresy had been redoubled. The fanaticism of Loy- 
ola, and the decision of the Council of Trent ''to 
erase with fire and sword the slightest traces of here- 
sy," made a poor frame work in which to place the 
picture of a liberal minded scholar. Bruno soon 
learned this at his cost. Even during his novitiate 
he was accused of giving away images of the saints, 
and of giving bad advice to his associates. In 1576 
he was accused of apologizing for the heresy of 
Arius, that the Son was begotten of the Father, and 
so not consubstantial nor coeternal with Him, but 
created by Him and subordinate to Him; (which was 
condemned by the Council of Nice, 325, and contra- 
dicted in the Nicene Creed;) admiring its scholastic 
form, rather than its abstract truth. Disgusted with 
his treatment he left Naples and went to Rome. Even 
here he was molested in the Cloister of Minerva 
(note the pagan name), and was met with an accusa- 
tion of 130 specifications. He then abandoned his 



1 68 GIORDANO BRUNO 

garb and his cloister and escaped from Rome, begin- 
ning thus the nomadic life which he continued until 
immured in the dungeons of the Inquisition at Venice, 
sixteen years later. Through these wanderings one 
must follow him, if one would become familiar with 
his life and traits. 

He now resumed for a time his baptismal name, 
and traveled to a town on the Gulf of Genoa, where 
he taught youth and young gentlemen. Then he passed 
on to Turin and Venice, where he spent weeks in 
futile attempts to find work. But the schools and the 
printing houses were closed because of the plague. In 
Venice however he managed to print his first book 
on "The Signs of the Times;" or rather this was 
his first book to appear in print. It seems that be- 
fore he left Naples he wrote "The Ark of Noah," 
a satirical allegory. In this he represented that the 
animals held a formal meeting in the Ark, to settle 
questions of precedence and rank, and that the pre- 
siding officer, the Ass, was in danger of losing his 
position and his influence, because his power lay 
rather in hoofs than horns. Throughout most of 
his life Bruno constantly scored and criticised Asin- 
ity; it was frequently the topic of his invective, and 
those who read between his lines were probably quite 
justified in regarding these frequent allusions as ref- 
erences to the ignorance, bigotry and credulity of the 
Monks. 

From Venice Bruno went to Padua, where some of 
the Dominican friars persuaded him to resume monas- 



GIORDANO BRUNO 169 

tic costume, since It made travel easier and safer. 
Thence by way of Brescia and Milan he may be fol- 
lowed to Bergamo. At Milan he first heard of his 
future friend Sir Philip Sydney. From Bergamo he 
resolved to go to Lyons, but learning that he would 
find anything but welcome there he turned aside and 
crossed the Alps, arriving In Geneva In the Spring of 
1579. Here he was visited by a distinguished Nea- 
politan exile, the Marquis De VIco, who persuaded 
him again to lay aside his clerical garb, and who gave 
him the dress of a gentleman. Including a sword. 

Here Is raised the great question, — Did Bruno 
adopt Calvinism? Before the Inquisition fifteen years 
later he practically denied this, yet acknowledged at- 
tending the lectures of Balbani, of Lucca, as well as 
of others who taught and preached In Geneva. Un- 
der the regulations of the Academy (University), 
where he had already registered, certain regulations 
must be complied with, and Bruno appears to have 
obeyed them In at least a certain degree. But the im- 
mediate cause for his departure from Geneva appears 
to have been one of his outbreaks of cynicism and 
accurate scholarship, since in 1579 he was called be- 
fore the Council for having caused to be printed a 
document enumerating twenty errors made by the 
Professor of Philosophy (de la Faye) In one of his 
lectures. The latter was Incensed and outraged at 
this criticism and disparagement of his views and 
learning, and the quarrel assumed unexpected magni- 
tude, since Bruno, on his second appearance before 



I70 GIORDANO BRUNO 

the Consistory or supreme tribunal of the Church, de- 
nied the charges and called the ministers "peda- 
gogues." These gentlemen decided to refuse him 
communion unless he should confess and repent of his 
faults and make due apology. His acceptance of 
these conditions not being hearty enough to suit his 
judges, he was admonished and excluded from the 
communion. These steps lead to greater contrition 
on his part, and the ban of excommunication was 
withdrawn. This sentence of exclusion was the only 
one within the power of the Consistory to pass, but 
does not prove that Bruno had accepted the protestant 
faith, nor partaken of its communion. In fact at his 
trial he steadfastly denied this. It seemed however, 
to disgust him with Calvinism, against which thereaf- 
ter he never ceased to inveigh. Later he contrasted 
it with Lutheranism which was far more tolerant, and 
still later gave him a heartier welcome. Calvin, it 
must be remembered, had written a polemic against 
Servetus, "in which it is shown to be lawful to coerce 
heretics by the sword." As between the council of 
Trent and Calvin it certainly must have been hard, in 
those days, to select either a faith, or an abiding place 
where that faith might be peaceably practised. Doubt- 
less Bruno's views concerning the philosophy of Aris- 
totle conflicted with those of the church authorities, 
for Beza (Calvin's follower), had stated that they 
did not propose to swerve one particle from the 
opinions of that Greek philosopher, to whom, though 
of pagan origin, the Church, both Roman and Pro- 



GIORDANO BRUNO 171 

testant, was for centuries so firmly bound. 

And so shaking the dust of Geneva from his feet 
he journeyed to Lyons, where he failed utterly to find 
occupation, and then on to Toulouse, where he re- 
mained about two years. Here he took a Doctorate 
in Theology in order to compete for a vacant chair. 
To this he was elected by the students, as the custom 
then was in most of the scholia or universities. For 
two sessions he lectured on Aristotle. Had this Uni- 
versity required of him that he should attend mass, 
as did some others, he could not have done so, owing 
to his excommunication; though just why exclusion 
from a Calvinistic academy should debar him from 
Catholic mass does not appear. Toulouse was a warm 
place for heretics; the burning of 14,000 of them at 
its capture will prove this. A few years (35) after 
he left it Vanini was burned for heretic notions. It is 
hardly to be believed that Bruno could pass two years 
or more here without controversies arising from his 
teaching. But his nominal reason for leaving, in 
158 1, and going to Paris, was the war then raging 
in Southern France, under Henry of Navarre. 

Before leaving Toulouse he completed his ^^Clavis 
Magna'^ or "Great Key," the last word — as he 
seemed to think — on the art of memory. Only one 
volume of this great work, which, in his peculiarly 
egotistical way, he said is "superlatively pregnant," 
was ever published, and that in England, the ^^Sigillus 
SigilloriimJ^ It must not be forgotten that it was on 
both teaching and practising this art of memory that 



I 



172 GIORDANO BRUNO 

Bruno, throughout his career, prided himself. He 
was even not averse, at least at certain periods of his 
career, to the belief that he had some secret system for 
this purpose, or even received occult aid. But when 
summoned before Henry III, to whose ears had come 
his fame, and asked whether the memory he had and 
the art he professed were natural or due to magic, he 
proved that a good memory was a cultivated natural 
product. He then dedicated to the King a book on 
''The Art of Memory:' 

But this was shortly after his arrival in Paris, In 
1 58 1, where he quickly became famous. A course of 
thirty lectures on ''The Thirty Divine Attributes'* of 
St. Thomas Aquinas would have given him a chair, 
could he have attended mass. 

His residence in Paris was marked by an extraor- 
dinary literary activity. He published in succession 
De Umbris Idearum (Shadow of Ideas) , dedicated to 
Henry III, (this included the Art of Memory just 
mentioned) Cantus Circaeus (Incantation of Circe) 
dedicated to Prince Henry; De Compendiosa Arch- 
itectura et Complemento Artis Lulli (Compendious 
Architecture) ; // Candelaio (The Torchbearer) ; 
these all appeared in 1582. These varied greatly In 
character. The first was devoted to the metaphysics 
of the art of remembering, with an analysis of that 
faculty, and these second was given up to the same 
general topic. It was all obscure, hence perhaps Its 
popularity. Brunnhofer says that It was "a conveni- 
ent means of introducing Bruno to strange universi- 



GIORDANO BRUNO 173 

ties, gaining him favor with the great, or helping him 
out of pressing need of money. It was his exoteric 
philosophy with which he could carefully drape the 
philosophy of a religion hostile to the Church, and 
ride as a hobby horse in his unfruitful humors." 
Nevertheless we must believe in his sincerity. The 
"Compendious Architecture" is the first of his works 
in which Bruno deals with the views of Raymond 
Lully, a "logical calculus and mnemonic scheme in one" 
(Mclntyre) that had many imitators. For Lully 
Bruno seems to have the greatest regard, this appear- 
ing in many ways. Lully, by the way, was a Spanish 
scholastic and alchemist, who was born on one of the 
Balearic Islands in 1235. He went as a missionary 
to the Mahommedans, and spent much time in Asia 
and Africa. He figures largely in the history of the 
alchemists and as a practitioner of the occult. 

The "Torchbearer" was a work of very different 
character. It was described as a "Comedy" by one 
who described himself as "Academico di nulla aca- 
demia, ditto 11 fastldlto : In tristitia hilaris, hilaritate 
tristis." It Is essentially a satire on the predominant 
vices of pedantry, superstition and selfishness or sor- 
did love. Though lacking in dramatic power it is 
regarded as second to nothing of Its kind and time. 
Its dramatis personae are personified types, not indi- 
viduals. It was realistic even in its vulgarity, for ob- 
scenity was prevalent in the literature of those days. 
But in it Bruno struck at what seemed to him his 
greatest enemy, i. e. pedantry. 



174 GIORDANO BRUNO 

There were at this time in Paris two great Univer- 
sities, one the College de France, with liberal tenden- 
cies, and opposed to the Jesuits and all pedantry; the 
other the Sorbonne, for centuries the guardian of the 
Catholic faith, endowed with the right of censorship, 
which must have been exercised over Bruno's works. 
In which of these, though surely in one of them, Bru- 
no was made an Extraordinary Lecturer history has 
failed to record. He must have offended both, 
since he was anxious to be taken back into the Church, 
yet was revolutionary in his teaching. More than 
thirty years later Nostitz, one of his pupils, paid tri- 
bute to his versatility and skill, saying "he was able 
to discourse impromptu on any suggested subject, to 
speak extensively and elaborately without preparation, 
so that he attracted many pupils and admirers in Par- 
is." (Mclntyre). But Bruno belonged to the lit- 
erally peripatetic school, and in 1583 he forsook Par- 
is for London, because as he says of "tumults," leav- 
ing it to the imagination whether these were civil or 
scholastic. 

Elizabeth reigned at this time ; her influence made 
England a harbor of safety for religious and other 
mental suspects. She had a penchant for Italians and 
their language; two of her physicians were Italians, 
and Florio was ever welcome at her court. To this 
court Bruno also was welcomed, and, basking for 
sometime in the sunshine of her regard and patron- 
age, passed there the happiest portion of his unhappy 
life. Oxford was at that time the stronghold of 



GIORDANO BRUNO 175 

Arlstotelellanlsm. One of its statutes ordained that 
''Bachelors and Masters who did not follow Aristotle 
faithfully were liable to a fine of five shillings for 
every point of divergence, and for every fault com- 
mitted against the Logic of the Organon." (Mc- 
Intyre). In Oxford at this time, unfortunately, the- 
ology was the only live Issue; of science as of real 
scholarship there was little or none. (Its predominant 
trait of those days is still, perhaps. Its dominant fea- 
ture to-day). To this university Bruno addressed a 
letter, couched in vainglorious and egotistical terms, 
craving permission to lecture there. This was not re- 
ceived with favor, while his doctrines met with small 
encouragement at this ancient seat of learning, which 
Bruno later stigmatized as the "widow of true sci- 
ence." But opportunity was afforded him to dispute 
publicly before a noble visitor in June, 1583, a Polish 
prince; one Alasco, for whom great public entertain- 
ment had been provided. His opponent, defeated by 
fifteen unanswerable syllogisms, resorted to scurrility 
and abuse. This public exhibition put an end to the 
lectures on the Immortality of the Soul which Bruno 
had been allowed to give, and he returned to Lon- 
don. 

Shortly after this he published his Cena (Ash Wed- 
nesday Supper) in which he ridiculed the Oxford doc- 
tors, saying among other things that they were much 
better acquainted with beer than with Greek. But 
he criticised too cynically and lost thereby in popular- 
ity. This led to the appearance of the Causa, a dia- 



176 GIORDANO BRUNO 

logue, in which he was less vindictive. He admitted in 
this that there was much in the old institution which 
was admirable ; that it was even the first in Europe, 
that speculative philosophy first flourished there, and 
that thence, "the splendor of one of the noblest and 
rarest spheres of philosophy, in our times almost ex- 
tinct, was diffused to all other academies in civilized 
lands." What he most condemned was the too great 
attention given to language and words while the re- 
alistics for which words stand were neglected. Doc- 
tors were easily made and doctorates too cheaply 
bought. His charge in brief was that they mistook 
the shadow for the substance ; a charge even yet too 
commonly justified among the strongholds of theol- 
ogy and other speculative dogmas. 

Returning to London after this experience Bruno 
went to live with Mauvissiere, the French Ambassa- 
dor. While the English records make no mention of 
his presence it is yet quite certain that he was fre- 
quently at Court, and that men like Sydney, Greville, 
Temple and others were his frequent associates. But 
as the Ambassador's influence was on the wane, he 
was not equal to his great trust. At this time our 
philosopher spoke of himself as one "whom the fool- 
ish hate, the ignoble despise, whom the wise love, the 
learned admire," etc. (Mclntyre). Of Queen Eliz- 
al)eth he wrote in most fulsome phrases, such as she 
too dearly loved. Before his judges, a few years later, 
Bruno apologized for his exaggerated expressions con- 
cerning a Protestant ruler, claiming that when he 



GIORDANO BRUNO 177 

spoke of her as "divine" he meant it not as a term of 
worship, but as an epithet like those which the an- 
cients bestowed upon their rulers; claiming further 
that he knew he erred in thus praising a heretic. 

Bruno published seven works in England. The 
first was ^^Explicatio triginta Sigillorum/' the Thir- 
ty Seals thus explained being hints for acquiring, ar- 
ranging and remembering all arts and sciences. To it 
was added his Sigillus Sigillorum for comparing and 
explaining all mental operations. Then came an 
Italian dialogue '^La Cena de le Cenerr or Ash Wed- 
nesday Supper. This was written in praise and exten- 
sion of the Copernican theory, indeed quite exceeding 
it in teaching the identity of matter, the infinity of the 
universe, the possibility of life on other spheres, with 
a painstaking attempt to show that these notions do 
not conflict with those of Mother Church. Next came 
^'De Causa, Principio et UnoJ' (Cause, Principle 
and Unity) . This treated of the immanence of spirit, 
the eternity of matter, the potential divinity of life, 
the origin of sin and death, and many other similar ab- 
struse topics. It was followed by De V Infinito Uni- 
verso ed Mondi, with numerous reasons for believing 
the universe to be infinite and full of innumerable 
worlds, with the divine essence everywhere pervading. 

All these works appeared in 1583. In 1584 ap- 
peared his ^^Spacio de la Bestia Triofante^^ or Ex- 
pulsion of the Triumphant Beast. In this prose poem 
Jupiter, repenting his errors, resolves to expel the 
many beasts that occupy his heavenly sphere — the 



178 GIORDANO BRUNO 

constellations — and to substitute for them the virtues. 
In the council of the gods convened by him many sub- 
jects are discussed, among them the history of re- 
ligions, the contrasts between natural and revealed re- 
ligions and the fundamental forms of morality. In 
this allegory Jupiter represents of course the hu- 
man spirit; the Bear, the Scorpion, etc., are the vices 
to be expelled. Unfortunately the book was quite 
generally regarded as attack upon the Church or the 
Pope, though what he really struck at was the cre- 
dulity of mankind. It was dedicated to Sir Philip 
Sydney. Then came his ^'Cabala del Cavallo Pega- 
sio'^ or Cabal, dedicated to a suppositious Bishop who 
was made to impersonate the spirit of ignorance and 
sloth. It is a mordant satire on Asinity, including 
credulity and unquestioning faith. After this he ded- 
icated another work to Sidney. ^'Degl' Heroici 
Furori'' (Enthusiasms of the Noble), a collection of 
sonnets with prose commentaries, like Dante's Fita 
Nuova, touching on the love for spiritual beauty aris- 
ing from that for physical beauty attaining a climax 
in a sort of ecstasy by union with the divine. These 
sonnets possess a very high literary value aside from 
their other interest. 

When his ambassadorial patron was recalled Bruno 
probably returned to Paris with him, during the lat- 
ter part of 1585. Here he spent a year amidst con- 
stant turmoil and excitement, and at his own expense. 
Though he attempted reconciliation with the Church 
he was regarded as an apostate. He held one more 



GIORDANO BRUNO 179 

public disputation in which he advanced one hundred 
and twenty theses against the teaching of the Sor- 
bonne, his side being taken by its rival, the College de 
France. The outcome cannot have been brilliantly fa- 
vorable, since he soon after left Paris, in June, 1586. 
The collection of charges above alluded to was pub- 
lished in Paris after Bruno's departure, and again in 
Wittenberg, under the title ^^Excuhitor" (The Am- 
bassador) . It was an arraignment of the Aristoteleli- 
ans, based on the words of that great master himself. 
Bruno claimed the same right to criticise Aristotle 
that the latter claimed to criticise his predecessors. In 
it Bruno says, "It is a poor mind that will think with 
the multitude because it is a multitude; truth is not 
altered by the opinions of the vulgar or the confirma- 
tion of the many;" — and again — "it Is more blessed 
to be wise in truth in face of opinion than to be wise 
in opinion in face of truth." (Mclntyre, p. 50). 

In addition to this Bruno had also published, be- 
fore leaving Paris, a commentary on the Physics of 
Aristotle. 

Tarrying somewhat by the wayside Bruno reached 
Wittenberg, where, in 1586, he matriculated at Its 
University, Marburg having curtly rejected him. 
Describing him here Mclntyre styles him the "Knight 
Errant of Philosophy." Here Lutheranism dominat- 
ed the theological faculty, while the philosophical fac- 
ulty was dominated by Calvinism; views concerning 
the person of Christ, the "Real Presence," and the 
doctrine of Predestination keeping them apart in spite 



i8o GIORDANO BRUNO 

of Melancthon's attempt to reunite the two factions. 
From the Lutheran party Bruno obtained permission 
to lecture, and so for two years he taught from the 
Organon of Aristotle, as well as the writings of Ray- 
mond Lulli. To the University senate he dedicated 
a work on Lulli, ^^De Lampade Comhinatoria Lul- 
liana/' whose chief purpose was to teach one how to 
find "an indefinite number of propositions and middle 
terms for speaking and arguing." He regarded it as 
the only key to the Lullian writings, as well as a clue 
to a great many of the mysteries of the Pythagoreans 
and Cabalists. It was soon followed by ^^De Pro- 
gressu et Lampade Venatoria hogicorumy intended 
to enable one to "dispute promptly and copiously on 
any subject." 

But again fate compelled a change of residence, for 
the Calvanistic and Ducal party gained in political 
ascendancy, to which party Bruno, as a Copernican, 
would have appeared as a heretic. After delivering 
an eloquent address of farewell he moved on, his next 
abiding place being Prague, where Rudolph II, of 
Bohemia, was posing as the friend of all learned men. 
Here he already had friends at court, and here he in- 
troduced himself with another Lullian work. To the 
Emperor he next dedicated a work of iconoclastic 
type, "One hundred and sixty articles against the 
mathematicians and philosophers of the day." For 
this the Emperor granted him the sum of three hun- 
dred dollars, and in January, 1589, he shifted again 
to Helmstadt, in Brunswick, where he matriculated 



GIORDANO BRUNO i8i 

again in the then youngest of the German Universi- 
ties. This had been founded only twelve years be- 
fore by Duke Julius, who was extremely liberal in his 
views, and intended to found a model institution, in 
which theology should not play too dominant a part. 
But while he received here a certain recognition fate 
again sported with him, for the Duke died four 
months after his arrival. Bruno obtained permission 
to pronounce a funeral oration, desiring to express his 
gratitude to the memory of one who had opened such 
an institution, so free to all lovers of the Muses and 
to exiles like himself, who were here protected from 
the greedy maw of the Roman wolf, whereas in Italy 
he had been chained to a superstituous cult. It was full 
of allusions to the papal tyranny which was infecting 
the world with the rankest poison of ignorance and 
vice. 

The fatuous simplicity and the worldly blindness 
which Bruno displayed, in ever setting foot inside of 
Italian or papal territory after the delivery of this 
Oratio Consolatoria, may in one way be appreciated 
but never understood or explained. Moreover he had 
made himself persona non grata as well to the Prot- 
estants, who were scarcely more liberal than the Cath- 
olics. It appears that the great Boethius, superinten- 
dent of the Church at Helmstadt, had acted both as 
judge and executioner, and publicly excommunicated 
Bruno without a hearing, since there is extant a letter 
appealing from his arbitrary judgment and malice. 
The grounds for this judgment were never made 



i82 GIORDANO BRUNO 

clear, since no attention was ever paid to the appeal; 
but inasmuch as Bruno never really joined the Protes- 
tant profession it must have been meant to inflict 
some species of social ostracism. Boethius had him- 
self to be suppressed later. But Bruno, finding too 
many enemies, left for Frankfort in 1590, ''in order 
to get two books printed." 

These were his two great Latin Works, "De Mini- 
mo" and ''De Immenso," the introduction to the lat- 
ter being the "De Monade." He worked at these 
with his own hands. In the introduction to the form- 
er his publisher stated that before its final revision 
Bruno had been hurriedly called away by an unfor- 
seen chance. This sudden departure may have been 
due to a refusal of the town Council to permit his 
residence there, or it may have been a call to Zurich, 
where he spent a few months with one Hainzel, who 
had a leaning toward the Black Arts. Bruno wrote 
for him *'De Imaginum Compositione/' a manual of 
his Art of Memory. In this Swiss city he also dic- 
tated a work ^'Summa T er minor um Metaphysicor- 
um'' which was not published until 1609, and then 
in Marburg. But Bruno returned to Frankfort in 
1 59 1, where he obtained permission to publish his 
De Minimo. This work was on the "three fold mini- 
mum and measurement, being the elements of three 
speculative and several practical sciences." This like 
the two next mentioned was a Latin poem, after the 
fashion of Lucretius. The De Monade, Numero et 
Figura dealt with the Monad, and with the elements 



GIORDANO BRUNO 183 

of a more esoteric science, while In the De Immenso 
et Innumerabilibus, the Immeasurable and Innu- 
merable, he dealt with the Universe and the worlds. 
These three poems contain Bruno's complete philoso- 
phy of God and Nature. 

While thus staying in Frankfort for the second time 
Bruno was invited by a young Venetian patrician to 
pay him a visit, and become his tutor in those arts in 
which the philosopher excelled. It was the most un- 
fortunate event in Bruno's unhappy life when he ac- 
cepted this apparently tempting invitation. Mocenigo, 
his host, was of good family, but shallow, vain, weak- 
minded and dishonest, with the fashionable taste 
of his day for the black arts. It Is quite possible that 
he was moreover the tool of the Inquisition, which 
had long desired to entrap Bruno. It Is probable 
moreover that the latter quite failed to appreciate 
how unenviably he was regarded by that Church to 
which he still felt that he belonged. Furthermore 
Venice was then a Republic and free, and he longed 
for his beloved Italy again. 

En route to Venice he spent three months In Padua, 
teaching there and gathering around himself pupils, 
even in that short time. He had barely left It when 
Galileo was invited there to teach ; as Riehl has said, 
"the creator of modern science following in the steps 
of Its prophet." 

Early in 1592 Bruno went to live In Mocenlgo's 
house. Trouble soon began. Entirely apart in tem- 
perament and characteristics, they soon disagreed. 



1 84 GIORDANO BRUNO 

The pupil was deeply disappointed at not acquiring 
that mastery over the secrets of nature for which 
he had hoped, and found that there was no quick way 
to acquire a retentive and replete memory. And so 
Mocenigo announced to his friend Ciotto, the book- 
seller, his intent to gain from Bruno all he could and 
then denounce him to the Holy Office. While others 
were thus conspiring against him Bruno was writing 
a work on "The Seven Liberal Arts" and on "Seven 
Other Inventive Arts," intending to present it to the 
Pope, hoping thus to obtain absolution and be re- 
leased from the ban of excommunication. 

When Bruno at last appreciated the dangers by 
which he was surrounded he announced his intent to 
go again to Frankfort to have some of his books 
printed, and so took his leave of Mocenigo. On the 
following day, in May, 1592, Bruno was seized by 
six men, using force, who locked him in an upper story 
of Mocenigo's house. The next day he was trans- 
ferred to an underground cellar, and the following 
night to the prison of the Inquisition. May 23rd his 
former host denounced him, with a cunning and ly- 
ing statement concerning some of his views and teach- 
ings. Thus he was reported as stating that Christ's 
miracles were only apparent, that He and the apostles 
were magicians, that the Catholic faith was full of 
blasphemies against God, that the Friars befouled the 
world and should not be allowed to preach, that they 
were asses, and the doctrines of the Church were 
asses' beliefs, etc. (Mclntyre). This was followed 



GIORDANO BRUNO 185 

two days later by a second denunciation in which 
Mocenigo went to a diabolical extreme of deceit and 
hypocrisy; stating that all the time he was entertain- 
ing Bruno he was promising himself to bring him be- 
fore the Holy Office. Within forty-eight hours the 
Holy Tribunal met to consider the matter; before 
them appeared the book-sellers who had known Bruno 
in Zurich and Frankfort, and before them came Bru- 
no in his own behalf, professing his entire willingness 
to tell the whole truth. Within a few days Mocenigo 
made yet another deposition, denouncing Bruno's 
statements about the infallible Church. On the fol- 
lowing day Bruno was again heard in his own defense, 
and appealed to the famous and fallacious doctrine of 
two-fold truth, acknowledging that he had taught too 
much as a philosopher rather than as an honest man 
and Christian, and that he had based his teachings 
too much on sense and reason and not enough on 
faith ; — so specious had become his argument with the 
terrors of the Inquisition before him. He further 
claimed that his intent had been not to impugn the 
faith but to exalt philosophy. He then beautifully 
epitomized his own views, claiming that he believed 
in an infinite universe, in an infinite divine potency, 
holding it unworthy of an infinite power to create a 
finite world, when he could produce so vast an infinity; 
with Pythagoras he regarded this world as one of 
many stars, — innumerable worlds. This universe he 
held to be governed by a universal providence, ex- 
istent in two forms ; — one nature, the shadow or foot- 



i86 GIORDANO BRUNO 

print of deity, the other the ineffable essence of God, 
always inexplicable. Concerning the triune Godhead 
he confessed certain philosophic doubts as well as con- 
cerning the use of the term ''persons^' in these distinc- 
tions, while he quoted St. Augustine to the same effect. 
The miracles he had always believed to be divine and 
genuine; concerning the Holy Mass and the Tran- 
substantiation he agreed with the Church. As the 
days went by he became the more insistent upon his 
orthodoxy. He condemned the heretic writings of 
Melancthon, Luther and Calvin, expressed respect for 
the writings of Lulli because of their philosophical 
bearings, while for St. Thomas Aquinas he had the 
most profound regard. 

Other counts in the indictment which he had to 
face were his doubts concerning the miracles, the sac- 
raments and the incarnation, his praise of heretics and 
heretic princes and his familiarity with the magic arts. 
He finally made a formal solemn abjuration of all the 
errors he had ever committed, and the heresies he 
had ever uttered, or doubts expressed or believed, 
praying only that the Holy Office would receive him 
back into the Church where he might rest in peace. 
Further examinations were held and the earlier pro- 
cesses against him in Naples and Rome recalled. Af- 
ter this there was a period of apparent quiet save that 
he remained in prison. It is not known to what tor- 
tures he may have been subjected, but it is recorded 
that he knelt before his judges asking their pardon, 
and God's, for all his faults, and professed himself 



GIORDANO BRUNO 187 

ready for any penance, apparently not yet realizing 
the fate in store for him. 

A little later it transpired that the Sacred Congre- 
gation of the Supreme Tribunal of the Holy Office, in 
Rome, desired to assume all further responsibility for 
the process against so distinguished a heretic. Ac- 
cordingly the machinery of the Church was put in mo- 
tion to this end. Negotiations with the Venetian Re- 
public, somewhat tedious and complicated, which need 
not detain us now, were at last concluded. January 
7, 1503, the Venetian procurator reported of Bruno 
that "his faults were exceedingly grave In respect of 
heresies, though in other respects he was one of the 
mxost excellent and rarest natures, and of exquisite 
learning and knowledge," (Mclntyre) but that the 
case was of unusual gravity, Bruno not a Venetian 
subject, the Pope most anxious, etc. It was then de- 
cided to remit him to the Tribunal of the Inquisition 
at Rome; whereat it is duly reported, the Pope was 
deeply gratified. 

To Rome then he went and here he was lost, so 
far as documentary records go, for a period of six 
years. How to explain this fact and this apparent 
clemency has bothered the biographers not a little. 
Whether this time was spent In an examination of his 
voluminous writings, which would seem Incredible, or 
whether the Dominicans labored so long to procure 
his more absolute recantation In order to prevent scan- 
dal in and reflection on their order, or whether Pope 
Clement himself regarded kindly — In some degree — 



i88 GIORDANO BRUNO 

the great scholar who was so anxious to dedicate to 
him a magnum opus; — to these queries history an- 
swereth not. The Dominicans pretended — ^years 
later — to doubt if he ever had been put to death, or 
whether he had ever really belonged to their order. 
These statements are too characteristic to provoke 
more than a sad smile. 

Finally matters were hastened to an end by the 
efforts of Fathers Commisario and Bellarmino; the 
latter being the zealous bigot who decided that Coper- 
nicanism was a heresy, who later laid the indictment 
against Galileo. Through their machinations Bruno 
was, in February, 1599, decreed on eight counts as a 
dangerous heretic, who might still admit his heresies, 
and he was to be granted forty days in which to re- 
cant and repent. But this period was stretched out 
some ten months, until December, when it was re- 
ported that Bruno refused to recant, having nothing 
to take back. Among the Tribunal at this time was 
San Severino, fanatical, bitter because of his failure 
to secure the papacy, who had declared that St. Bar- 
tholomew's was'^a glorious day, a day of joy for Cath- 
olics." It was decided that the high officers of the 
Dominicans should make one last effort to compel or 
coax Bruno to abjure. This he declined to do, 
Whereupon, January 20th, 1600, it was decreed that 
"further measures be proceeded to, servatis servandis, 
that sentence be passed, and that the said Friar Gior- 
dano be handed over to the secular authority." A few 
days later Bruno was degraded, excommunicated and 



GIORDANO BRUNO 189 

handed over to the Governor of Rome, with the usual 
hypocritical recommendation to "mercy," and that he 
be punished "without effusion of blood," which meant 
of course burning at the stake. 

Bruno's reply to his judges deserves to be printed 
in letters of gold whenever it can be recorded; — 
^^Greater perhaps is your fear in pronouncing my sen- 
tence than mine in hearing itJ' 

Let us spare ourselves a too minute account of his 
execution. Some reports are to the effect that his 
tongue was tied, because he refused to listen to the 
exhortations of those members of the Company of 
St. John the Beheaded, better known as the Brothers 
of the MIserlcordia, who accompanied the condemned 
to the scaffold or the stake, resorting to the most 
cruel methods In order to provoke at least some ap- 
pearance of recantation or repentance during the last 
moments of life. 

Right here let it be said of Bruno that whatever 
may have been his weaknesses before the Inquisition at 
Venice, he stood firmly by his creed when put to the 
final test, and died an Ideal martyr's death because his 
creed did not agree with that of his persecutors. 

And so terminated the life of one of Italy's greatest 
ornaments and scholars. The occasion had not then 
the importance we assign It now. The burning of a 
heretic was a frequent spectacle, and the year 1600 
was the year of Jubilee, In which the death of one un- 
believer more was but the Incident of a day. He had 
himself forseen it, saying, "Torches, fifty or a hun- 



190 GIORDANO BRUNO 

dred, will not fail me, even though the march past be 
at mid-day, should it be my fate to die in Roman 
Catholic Country." 

There remains yet to comment on his character and 
to analyze his views. 

The greatest blot upon the former is his attitude 
before the Venetian Tribunal. Here he was at first 
defiant, even polemical, strong in his asserted right to 
use the natural light of sense and reason. Under 
greater stress he modified this to one of absolute and 
indignant denial, and finally became submissive to the 
last degree, cringing and finally begging for pardon 
on bended knees. That this attitude changed with 
his better realization of his predicament is undeniable. 
Moreover what keen and sensitive natures may do 
under the influence of torture is never to be predi- 
cated. How many of us could resist the persuasive- 
ness of the rack when it came to modifying our be- 
liefs? But whatever may have been his weakness at 
that time, he completely rehabilitated himself before 
his end, for were not his ashes scattered to the winds 
as a token that he completely failed to recant? Sure- 
ly no martyr to science or dogma ever died a more 
dignified death, for the edification or example of oth- 
ers. 

What shall be said of his persecutors and prosecu- 
tors? Let us here be charitable; let us be just. Have 
we yet that absolute knowledge of right and wrong 
which can enable us to pass final judgment on men of 
the past, their motives and actions? Moral percep- 



GIORDANO BRUNO 191 

tlons are the product of the race, the age and the en- 
vironment ; they vary greatly with the times. There 
is no crime in or out of the Decalogue which has at all 
times and by all peoples been regarded as such. The 
Church during several centuries enjoyed a monopoly 
of wisdom or learning as well as of opportunities for 
acquiring them. Zealotry, bigotry, intolerance, fanat- 
icism, were the natural products of such conditions. 
So were cruelty and disregard of human life. Join 
the mind of a bigot to the body of one who knows not 
fear, and the result will be a Loyola, or a St. Louis 
of France, who held that the only argument a lay- 
man should engage in with a heretic should be a 
sword thrust through the body. If then heresy was 
a crime, punishable by a cruel death in all the capitals 
of Europe, let us blame less the men who were 
trained and grew up with these notions, but rather 
more the Church which preached them, whether Cath- 
olic or Protestant. Only if one of these really were, 
as it still claims to be, infallible, then what has be- 
come of its infallibility? Or if heresy be held still a 
crime then what shall we say of the Church's ethics? 
If one were God-given the other is un-Christ-like. 
But no free thinker can engage in theological polem- 
ics, or with Jesuitical sophistries, without letting his 
reason excite his emotions; and when the emotions 
enter the door logic flies out of the window. 

Let us say then that Bruno was in some respects so 
far ahead of his day and generation that they under- 
stood him not. And yet he was a torch bearer, save 



192 GIORDANO BRUNO 

at his own last funeral pyre, shedding forth a light 
which illumed the centuries to come, and helping to 
make the period of the Italian Renaissance one of the 
most important and glorious in the world's history. 
If better known and more widely studied, he would be 
by English and American students placed on that pin- 
acle which he deserves in the Hall of Fame. 

What shall be said of Bruno as a philosopher? He, 
first of all men in the middle ages, taught that Na- 
ture was lovable and worthy of study. Loving her, 
trusting, confiding in her, he found himself at outs 
with all the mental processes of his fellow scholars. 
In this way the natural method was brought into di- 
rect opposition with the ponderously artificial and 
strained methods of his day. He held that our eyes 
were given us that we might open and look upward. 
"Seeing, I do not pretend not to see, nor fear to pro- 
fess it openly," he says. His philosophy was rather a 
product of intuition than of ratiocination, which be- 
came his real religion, for which Catholicism was a 
cloak, because in those days one was compelled to 
wear a cloak or live but a short life, and that within 
prison walls. What the medieval church. Catholic 
and even Protestant, has to answer for, as to the sup- 
pression of truth and provocation of hypocrisy, is be- 
yond the mensuration of man. For the argument 
from authority he had the greatest contempt, and 
herein he set the world of thinkers a valuable lesson. 
"To believe with the many because they were many, 
was the mark of a slave," (Mclntyre). Before Ba- 



GIORDANO BRUNO 193 

con, before Descrates, he saw the necessity of "first 
clearing the mind of all prejudice, all traditional be- 
liefs that rest on authority." He thus begins one of 
his sonnets : — 

"Oh, holy assinity ! Oh, holy ignorance, holy folly 
and pious devotion; which alone makest souls so 
good that human wit and zeal can go no further," etc. 

By the independence of his mental processes he was 
thrown quite upon his own resources, and his nature, 
already dignified and reserved, was made more in- 
trospective and self-conscious. In this way he devel- 
oped strains of vanity and egotism which led him at 
times to the bombastic self-laudation of a Paracelsus. 
He had nothing but disgust for the common people 
and the sort of scholars (pedants) whom they ad- 
mired. The vulgar mind was more influenced by 
sophisms, by appearance, by failure to distinguish 
between the shadow and the substance. Take but two 
or three of Bruno's conceptions : — 

He perhaps first during the middle ages taught the 
transformation of lower into higher organisms, fol- 
lowing the Greeks who first enunciated the doctrine 
of evolution, which it remained for Darwin and Wal- 
lace to edit and illustrate as that law of the organic 
continuity of life, which we call evolution. He further 
wrote of the human hand as a factor in the evolution 
of the human race, in a way which should have com- 
mended him to the author of the Bridgewater treatise. 
He wrote of the changes on the earth's surface 
brought about by natural processes, which have 



194 GIORDANO BRUNO 

changed not only the external configuration of the 
same but the fate and destiny of nations; of the 
identity of matter throughout the universe; of the 
universal movement of matter. Long before Lessing 
he showed how myths may contain the germs of 
great truths, and should be regarded as indications 
thereof. In this way, he told us, the Bible was to be 
regarded, holding its more or less historical state- 
ments to be quite subordinate to its moral teachings. 

When we realize how to such highly developed rea- 
soning powers as Bruno possessed, were added a 
phenomenal memory, a tremendous power of assimila- 
tion, a developed imagination, a poetic nature, the 
gift of easy and accurate speech and a temperament 
easily excited to fervor in attack or defense, we may 
the better appreciate his dominating greatness as well 
as his trifling weakness; the former being entirely 
to his own credit while the latter are ascribed largely 
to the faults of his time, and the fact that he was 
really living far ahead of his day and generation. He 
was not only the forerunner of modern science, he was 
the prototype of the modern biblical critic, fore- 
shadowing the modern higher criticism, albeit in 
veiled terms, and as a matter of esoteric teaching; 
because the biblical critic of those days was burned at 
the stake, while to-day he is barely ostracized by the 
shallow and narrow minded, with w^hom he has at 
best nothing mentally in common. So much have four 
centuries of labor and vicarious suffering accomplished 
for the emancipation of the human mind. 



GIORDANO BRUNO 195 

Bruno had a creed, but it was too simple for his 
times. He rejected certain orthodox dogmas, (e. g. 
the Trinity, the Immaculate Conception) which com- 
mend themselves still less to the emancipated and cul- 
tivated minds of to-day. He absolutely rejected 
authority, which was a step toward reason comparable 
to the freeing of the slaves or serfs. He evolved a 
theory of evolution from a priori concepts, which it 
remained for Darwin to complete and demonstrate. 
He believed in the natural history of religions. His 
motives were of the loftiest, though his methods were 
not always those of to-day. He believed that the es- 
sence of truth inhered in those differences which kept 
men apart, and still sever them. He believed the 
law of love and that it sprang from God, which is 
the Father of All, that it was in harmony with nature, 
and that by love we may be transformed into some- 
thing of His likeness. As Bruno himself says: — 
"This is the religion, above controversy or dispute, 
which I observe from the belief of my own mind, and 
from the custom of my fatherland and my race." 
(Mclntyre, p. no). 

And yet this sublime man was burned as a heretic I 
Let us stop when we hereafter pass through the Cam- 
po dei Fiori, as I have done many a time, and take 
off our hats to the memory of this great man, who, 
while small in some human traits, yet was the great- 
est thinker in Italy during the sixteenth century, whose 
memory may help us to forget some of the hypocrisies 
and cant so generally prevalent during the age which 



196 GIORDANO BRUNO 

and among the men who condemned him. Let us 
also thank God that there is no Tribunal of the Iniqui- 

sition to-day, to pass misguided judgment upon us for 
having gone further than Bruno ever dreamed, 
though along the same lines, and to condemn us there- 
fore to the Flames. 

This paper has already been prolonged, perhaps 
tiresomely, nevertheless I cannot refrain from quot- 
ing a few paragraphs from that most versatile stu- 
dent of this period, Symonds, whose estimate of Bru- 
no is as follows: — (Renaissance in Italy; Catholic 
Reaction, II Chap. ix). 

"Bruno appears before us as the man who most 
vitally and comprehensively grasped the leading ten- 
dencies of his age in their intellectual essence. He 
left behind him the mediaeval conception of an extra- 
mundane God, creating a finite world, of which this 
globe is the center, and the principal episode in the 
history of which is the series of events from the Fall, 
through the Incarnation and Crucifixion, to the Last 
Judgment. He substituted the conception of an ever- 
living, ever-acting, ever-self-effectuating God, imman- 
ent in an infinite universe, to the contemplation of 
whose attributes the mind of man ascends by the study 
of Nature and interrogation of his conscience. 

"Bolder even than Copernicus, and nearer in his in- 
tuition to the truth, he denied that the universe had 
"flaming walls" or any walls at all. That "immagi- 
nata circonferenza," "quella margine immaginata del 
cielo," on which antique science and Christian theol- 



GIORDANO BRUNO 197 

ogy alike reposed, was the object of his ceaseless sa- 
tire, his oft-repeated polemic. What, then, rendered 
Bruno the precursor of modern thought in its various 
manifestations, was that he grasped the fundamental 
truth upon which modern science rests, and foresaw 
the conclusions which must be drawn from it. He 
speculated boldly, incoherently, vehemently; but he 
speculated with a clear conception of the universe, as 
we still apprehend it. Through the course of three 
centuries we have been engaged in verifying the 
guesses, deepening, broadening and solidifying the 
hypotheses, which Bruno's extension of the Coper- 
nican theory, and his application of it to pure thought 
suggested to his penetrating and audacious intellect." 
Bruno was convinced that religion in its higher 
essence would not sufferer from the new philosophy. 
Larger horizons extended before the human intellect. 
The soul expanded in more exhilarating regions than 
the old theologies had offered. 

"Lift up thy light on us and on thine own, 
O soul whose spirit on earth was as a rod 
To scourge off priests, a sword to pierce their God, 
A staff for man's free thought to walk alone, 
A lamp to lead him far from shrine and throne 
On ways untrodden where his fathers trod 
Ere earth's heart withered at a high priest's nod. 
And all men's mouths that made not prayer made 

moan. 
From bonds and torments, and the ravening flame, 



198 GIORDANO BRUNO 

Surely thy spirit of sense rose up to greet 

Lucretius, where such only spirits meet, 

And walk with him apart till Shelley came 

To make the heaven of heavens more heavenly 

sweet, 
And mix with yours a third incorporate name." 



VIII 
STUDENT LIFE IN THE MIDDLE AGES* 

I ASSUME that every university student of to- 
day realizes that his possibilities and his oppor- 
tunities are better in every way than were those 
enjoyed by students of bygone times. I take it, 
also, that you would not be averse to listening to an 
account of the habits, the surroundings, the privileges, 
and the disadvantages which surrounded students at 
a time when universities were young and when cus- 
toms in general, as well as manners, were very differ- 
ent from those of to-day. With all this in view, 1 
shall ask your attention to a brief account of Student 
Life in the Middle Ages, with especial reference to 
that of the medical student. Measured by its results, 
the most priceless legacy of mediaeval times to man- 
kind was the university system, which began in crude 
form and with an almost mythical origin, but which 
gradually took form and shape in consequence of 
many external forces. It represented an effort to 
"realize in concrete form an ideal of life in one of its 
aspects." Such ideals "pass into great historic forces 
by embodying themselves in institutions," as witness, 
for instance, the case of the Church of Rome. 



*An Address given before the Chas. K. Mills Society of Stu- 
dents of the University of Pennsylvania, February 19, 1902. 

[Reprinted from the Univ. of Penna. Medical Bulletin, March, 
1902.] 

199 



200 STUDENT LIFE 

The use of words in our language has undergone 
many curious perversions. Take our word "bom- 
bast," for instance. Originally it was a name ap- 
plied to the cotton plant. Then it was applied to any 
padding for garments which was made of cotton. 
Later it was used as describing literary padding, as 
it were, as when one filled out an empty speech with 
unnecessary and long words, and, at last, it came to 
have the meaning which we now give it. So with the 
word "university." "Universitas" in the original 
Latin meant simply a collection, a plurality, or an ag- 
gregation. It was almost synonymous with "col- 
legium." By the beginning of the thirteenth cen- 
tury it was applied to corporations of masters or stu- 
dents and to other associated bodies, and implied an 
association of individuals, not a place of meeting, 
nor even a collection of schools. If we were to be 
literal and consistent in our use of terms, for the place 
where such collections of men exercise scholastic func- 
tions the term should be '^studium generaUy mean- 
ing thereby a place, not where all things are studied, 
but where students come together from all directions. 
Very few of the mediaeval studia possessed all the 
faculties of a modern university. Even Paris, in its 
palmiest days, had no faculty of law. The name 
universitas implies a general invitation to students 
from all over the world to seek there a place for 
higher education from numerous masters or teachers. 
The three great studia of the thirteenth century were 
Paris, transcendent in theology and the arts; Bo- 



STUDENT LIFE 201 

logna, where legal lore prevailed; and Salernum, 
where existed the greatest medical school of the 
world's history. In spite of the fact that these, like 
all the other studta of the Middle Ages, were under 
the influence of the Church, from them sprang most 
of the inspiration that constituted the mainspring of 
mediaeval intellectual activity, although how baneful 
such influence could be may be illustrated by the 
Spanish — that is, the ultra-Catholic University of 
Salamanca, where not until one hundred years ago 
were they allowed to teach the Copernican system 
of astronomy. 

Under the conditions existing during the Middle 
Ages, with relatively few institutions of advanced 
learning, and in the presence of that spirit which 
led men to travel long distances, and very widely 
out of the provinces, to the cities of the great scholia, 
or, as we call them now, universities, the most imper- 
ative common want was that of a common language ; 
and so it happened that not only were the lectures 
all given in Latin, but that it was very commonly 
used for conversational purposes, and appears to 
have been almost a necessity of university life. Early 
in the history of the University of Paris a statute 
made the ability of the petitioner to state his case be- 
fore the rector in Latin a test of his bona-fide student- 
ship. This may perhaps, in some measure account 
for the barbarity of mediaeval Latin. Still, as the 
listener said about Wagner's music, "it may not have 
been as bad as it sounded," since the period of great- 



202 STUDENT LIFE 

est ignorance of construction and rhetoric had passed 
away before the university era began. John Stuart 
Mill even praised the schoolmen of the Middle Ages 
for their inventive capacity in the matter of technical 
terms. The Latin language, which was originally 
stiff and poor in vocabulary, became, in its employ- 
ment by these mediaeval thinkers, much more flexible 
and expressive. It was the Ciceronian pedantry of 
the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries which killed 
off Latin as a living language. Felicity in Latin 
counted, then as now, as a mark of scholarship, and 
six hundred years ago a schoolmaster could come up 
to the university and, after performing some exer- 
cises and passing such an examination as the doctors 
of music do to-day, could write one hundred verses 
in Latin in praise of the university, and take his de- 
gree. The boys who went to the universities learned 
their Latin at inferior grammar schools, often in 
university towns. These schools were mainly con- 
nected with cathedrals or churches, although, in the 
later Middle Ages, even the smallest towns had 
schools where a boy might learn to read and write 
at least the rudiments of ecclesiastical Latin. In those 
days not only were the clergy Latin scholars, but the 
bailiff of every manor kept his accounts in Latin, and 
a tutor even formed part of the establishment of a 
great noble or prelate who had either a family or 
pages in his care. 

In those good old days boys were accustomed to 
seek the university at the ages of thirteen to fifteen. 



STUDENT LIFE 203 

A Paris statute required them to be at least four- 
teen, and naturally many were older. Many of these 
students were beneficed, and boys were canons or 
even rectors of parish churches. In this capacity they 
obtained leave of absence to study in the universities, 
and so it was quite common at one time for rectors 
and ecclesiastics of all ages to appear in the role of 
university students. At the close of the fourteenth 
century, in the University of Prague, in the law school 
alone there appeared on the list of students one bish- 
op, one abbot, nine archdeacons, 290 canons, 187 
rectors, and still other minor ecclesiastics. At one 
time in the University of Bologna, in the registry of 
German corps, more than half the students were 
church dignitaries. Sad to relate, many of these cler- 
ical students were among the most disorderly and 
troublesome of the academic population, the statutes 
vainly prescribing that they should sit "as quiet as 
girls;" while, as Rashdall says, "even spiritual thun- 
ders had at times to be invoked to prevent them from 
shouting, playing, and interrupting." 

Considering the youthfulness of what we may call 
the freshmen, as many of them went up to the uni- 
versities at the early age already mentioned, it is not 
strange that we hear of "fetchers" or "carriers" or 
"bryngers," who were detailed to escort them home; 
but we must remember that the roads were dangerous 
in those days, and that protection of some kind was 
necessary even for men. Proclamations against bear- 
ing arms usually made exceptions in favor of students 



204 STUDENT LIFE 

travelling to or from the university. Students, many 
of them, lived in halls, or, as we would say now, dor- 
mitories, and one of them assumed the role of princi^ 
pal, or was delegated to exercise certain authority. 
Quite often this was the man who made himself re- 
sponsible for the rent, whose authority came only 
from the voluntary consent of his fellow-students, or 
who was elected by them. 

When it came to the matter of discipline, the good 
old-fashioned birchen rod was not an unknown factor 
in university government. There seems to have been 
always a certain relationship between classic studies 
and corporal punishment. In mediaeval university 
records allusions to this relationship began about the 
fifteenth century. In Paris, about this time, when 
there were so many disgraceful factional fights, the 
rectors and proctors had occasionally to go to the col- 
leges and halls and personally superintend the chas- 
tisement of the young rioters. We find also in the 
history of the University of Louvain that flogging 
was at one time ordered by the Faculty of Arts for 
homicide or other grave outrages. It is worth while 
to recall for a moment how grave offences were dealt 
with in those days. At the University of Ingolstadt 
one student killed another in a drunken quarrel, and 
was punished by the university by the confiscation of 
his scholastic effects and garments, but he was not 
even expelled. At Prague a certain Master of Arts 
assisted in cutting the throat of a friar bishop, and 
was actually expelled for the deed. In those days 



STUDENT LIFE 205 

drunkenness was rarely treated as a university of- 
fence. The penalties which were inflicted for the 
gravest outrages and immoralities were for the great- 
er part puerile in the extreme. In most serious cases 
excommunication or imprisonment were the penalties, 
while lesser offences were punished by postponement 
of degree, expulsion from the college, temporary ban- 
ishment from a university town, or by fines. 

In Leipzig, in 1439, the fine of ten new groschen 
was provided for the offense of lifting a stone or 
missile with a view of throwing it at a master, but 
not actually throwing it; whereas the act of throw- 
mg and missing increased the penalty to eight flor- 
ins, while successful marksmanship was still more ex- 
pensive. Later statutes made distinction between hit- 
ting without wounding and wounding without muti- 
lation, expulsion being the penalty for actual mutila- 
tion. With the beginning of the sixteenth century 
the practice of flogging the very poorest students ap- 
pears to have been introduced. During these Middle 
Ages they had a peculiar fashion of expiating even 
grave offences. For example, at the Sorbonne, if a 
fellow should assault or cruelly beat a servant he was 
fined a measure of good wine — not for the benefit of 
the servant, but for all the culprit's fellow-students. 
Those were the days, too, when trifling lapses incur- 
red each its own penalty. A doctor of divinity was 
fined a quart of wine for picking a pear off a tree in 
the college garden or forgetting to shut the chapel 
door. Clerks were fined for being very drunk and 



2o6 STUDENT LIFE 

committing insolences when in that condition. The 
head cook was fined for not putting salt in the soup. 
Most of these fines being in the shape of liquors or 
wines, I imagine that the practice was more general 
because the penalty was shared in by all who were 
near. 

With lapse of time the statutes of the German uni- 
versities gradually grew stricter until they became 
very minute and restrictive in the matter of unaca- 
demical pleasures. A visit to the tavern, or even to 
the kitchen of the college or hall, became a university 
offence. There were statutes against swearing, against 
games of chance, walking abroad without a com- 
panion, being out after eight in the winter or nine 
in the summer, making odious comparisons of coun- 
try to country, etc. This was particularly true of the 
English universities, where a definite penalty was im- 
posed for every offence, ranging from a quarter of a 
penny for not speaking Latin to six shillings eight 
pence for assault with effusion of blood. 

The matter of constantly speaking Latin led to a 
system of espionage, by which a secret system of 
spies, called 'Hupi" or wolves, was arranged; these 
were to inform against the "vulgarisantes'^ or those 
offenders who persisted in speaking in their mother 
tongue. 

It was the students of those days who set the ex- 
ample and the fashion of initiating, or, as we would 
say now, of hazing the newcomers. This custom of 
initiation, in one form or another, seems to have an 



STUDENT LIFE 207 

almost hoary antiquity. As Rashdall puts It, three 
deeply rooted Instincts of human nature combine to 
put the custom almost beyond suppression. It satis- 
fies alike the bullying Instinct, the social instinct, and 
the desire to find at once the excuse and the means for 
a carouse. In the days of which we are speaking 
the Bejaunus, which is a corruption of the old French 
Bec-jaune (or yellow bill), as the academic fledgling 
was called, had to be bullied and coaxed and teased 
in order to be welcomed as a comrade, and finally 
his "jocund advent*' had to be celebrated by a feast 
furnished at his own expense. A history of the pro- 
cess of initiating would furnish one of the most singu- 
lar chapters In university records. At first there were 
several prohibitions against all bejaunia, for the un- 
fortunate youth's limited purse ill afforded even the 
first year's expenses. As the years went by certain 
restrictions were imposed, and by the sixteenth cen- 
tury the deposttio cornuum had become in the Ger- 
man universities a ceremony almost equal in import- 
ance to matriculation. The callow country youth 
was supposed to be a wild beast who must be de- 
prived of his horns before he could be received Into 
refined society in his new home. This constituted the 
deposttio for which he was supposed to arrange with 
his new masters, at the same time begging them to 
keep expenses as low as possible. Soon after he ma- 
triculated he was visited in his room by two of the 
students, who would pretend to be investigating the 
source of an abominable odor. 



2o8 STUDENT LIFE 

This would be subsequently discovered to be due 
to the newcomer himself, whom they would take at 
first to be a wild boar, but later discovery to be that 
rare creature known as a bejaunus, a creature of 
whom they had heard, but which they had never seen. 
After chaffing comments about his general ferocious 
aspect it would be suggested, with marked sympathy, 
that his horns might be removed by operation, the 
so-called depositio. The victim's face would then 
be smeared with some preparation, and certain for- 
malities would be gone through with— clipping his 
ears, removal of his tusks, etc. Finally, in fear lest 
the mock operation should be fatal, the patient would 
be shriven; one of the students, feigning himself a 
priest, would put his ear to the dying man's mouth 
and then repeat his confession. The boy was made 
to accuse himself of all sorts of enormities, and finally 
it was exacted as penance that he should provide a 
sumptuous banquet for his new masters and com- 
rades. 

This latter ceremony consisted of a procession 
headed by a master in academic dress, followed by 
students in masquerading costume. Certain further 
operative procedures were then gone through with, 
the beast was finally dehorned and his nose held to 
the grindstone, while a little later his chin was 
adorned with a beard made of burnt cork, and his 
wounded sensibilities assuaged by a dose of salt and 
wine. All this constituted a peculiar German cus- 
tom, although some means of extorting money or 



STUDENT LIFE 209 

bothering those who were initiated was practically 
universal. In Germany this ceremony of depositio 
seems to have led later to the bullying and fagging of 
juniors by seniors, that gave rise to indignities while 
at the same time it more than exceeded in brutality 
anything of which we have read in the English gram- 
mar schools. These excesses reached their highest in 
the seventeenth century, and for a long time defied 
all efforts of both government and university authori- 
ties to suppress them. 

In southern France this initiation assumed some- 
what different form. Here the freshman was treated 
as a criminal, and had to be tried for and released 
by purgation from the consequences of his original 
sin. At Avignon this purgation of freshmen was 
made the primary purpose of a religious fraternity 
formed under ecclesiastical sanction, and with a chap- 
el in the Dominican church. (Rashdall). The pre- 
amble of its constitution piously boasted that its ob- 
ject was to put a stop to enormities, drunkenness and 
immorality, but its practices were at extreme variance 
with its avowed purposes. 

The matter of academical dress may interest for a 
moment. During the Middle Ages there was for the 
undergraduate nothing which could be properly 
called academic dress. In the Italian universities the 
students wore a long black garment known as a "cap- 
pa." In the Parisian universities every student was 
required by custom or statute to wear a tonsure and 
a clerical habit, such "indecent, dissolute, or secular" 



2IO STUDENT LIFE 

apparel as puffed sleeves, pointed shoes, colored boots, 
etc., being positively forbidden; and so the clothes 
of uniform color and material, like those worn in 
some of the English charitable schools, have been the 
result of the uniform dress of a particular color which 
mediaeval students were supposed to wear, and which 
indicated that at the time they were supposed to 
be clerks. At one time the so-called Queen's Men in 
Oxford University were required to wear bright red 
garments, and differences of color and ornament still 
survive in the undergraduate gowns of Cambridge. 
While the students usually wore dark-hued material, 
the higher officials of the universities wore more and 
more elaborate garments, until the rector appeared in 
violet or purple, perhaps with fur trimmings. The 
hoods, which are still worn to-day, were at one time 
made of lamb's wool or rabbit's fur, silk, such as 
those which we wear, coming in as a summer alterna- 
tive at the end of the fourteenth century. The bir- 
retta, or square cap, with a tuft on the top, in lieu 
of the modern tassel on top of the square cap, was a 
distinctive badge of membership, while doctors and 
superior officers were distinguished by the red or 
violet color of their birrettas. 

This so-called "philosophy of clothes" throws much 
light upon the relation of the Church to the universi- 
ties, as well as on the use and misuse of the term "cler- 
icus." That a man was a clericus in the Middle Ages 
did not necessarily imply that he had taken even the 
lowest grade of clerical orders. It simply implied 



STUDENT LIFE 211 

that he was a clerk, i. e., a student. Even the wear- 
ing of a so-called clerical dress was rather in order 
that the wearer might enjoy exemption from secular 
courts and the privileges of the clerical order. The 
lowest of the people even took the clerical tonsure 
simply in order to get the benefit of clergy; and to 
become a clerk was at one time almost equivalent to 
taking out a license for the commission of murder 
or outrage with comparative immunity. Neverthe- 
less, the relation between clerkship and minor orders 
is still quite obscure. 

It is quite evident that students of those days were 
not worked as hard as those of the present day. 
Three lectures a day constituted a maximum of work 
of this kind, beside which there were disputations and 
"resumpciones," which seem to have corresponded 
very much to the quizzes of to-day, scholars being 
examined or catechised, sometimes even by the lec- 
turer himself. Gradually supplementary lectures 
were introduced, but there was a period during which 
the university seemed to decline and decay rather than 
the reverse, when intellectual life was not nearly as 
active and studies not nearly as closely pursued. In 
the days of Thomas Aquinas intellectual vigor was at 
its highest, but in the fifteenth century there was a 
distinct falling off. 

During these centuries, too, it was not unusual that 
students attended mass or religious services before 
going to lectures. This practice grew during the 
latter portion of the Middle Ages. Attendance waf 



212 STUDENT LIFE 

not, however, compulsory. Even at Oxford the 
statutes of the New College were the first which re- 
quired daily attendance at mass. In those days lec- 
tures began at six in the morning in summer, and 
sometimes as late as seven in the winter mornings. 
There is every reason to think that often lectures were 
given in the darkness preceding dawn, and even with- 
out artificial light. It should be said that these lec- 
tures were sometimes three hours in duration, and 
hence it might appear that three such lectures a day 
were about all that could be expected of a student. 

The standard of living for the mediaeval student 
was not always so bad as has been sometimes repre- 
sented. University students then, as now, were re- 
cruited from the highest as well as the poorest social 
classes, and the young sons of princely families often 
had about them quite an establishment. At the lower 
end of the university social ladder was the poor schol- 
ar who was reduced to begging for his living or be- 
coming a servant in one of the colleges. In Vienna 
and elsewhere there were halls whose inmates were 
regularly sent out to beg, the proceeds of their men- 
dicancy being placed in a common chest. Very poor 
scholars were often granted licenses to beg by the 
chancellor. This was not regarded as a particular 
degradation, however, because the example of the 
friars had made begging comparatively respectable. 
Those who would have been ashamed to work hard 
were not ashamed to beg. 

This custom, for that matter, is by no means yet 



STUDENT LIFE 213 

abandoned. When I was first studying in Vienna, in 
1882, I remember a young German nobleman who 
was reduced to such an extent that he lived abso- 
lutely on the charity of others. He kept a little book 
in which he had it set down that on such a day such 
a person had promised to give him so much toward 
his support, and he called regularly on his list of sup- 
porters, and almost daily, in order that the gulden 
which they had promised him might be forthcoming. 

There is the good old story you know, also, of 
the three students who were so poor that they had 
but one cappa or gown between them, in which they 
took turns to go to lectures. In the small university 
towns, where thousands of students gathered togeth- 
er during a part of the year — ^where means of carry- 
ing food were scanty, and food itself not abundant- — 
it is not strange that student fare was often of the 
most meagre sort. 

The matter of food was not the only hardship of 
student life in those days about which we are talking. 
At that time such a thing as a fire in a lecture-room 
was unknown, there being no source of warmth or 
comfort, save, perhaps, straw or rushes upon the 
floor. The winter in the northern university towns 
must have been severe, but it is not likely that either 
in the lecture-room or in his own apartments did the 
student have any comfort from heat. This was true 
to such an extent that they often sought the kitchens 
for comfort. In Germany it was even one of the du- 
ties of the head of the college to inspect the college- 



214 STUDENT LIFE 

rooms lest the occupants should have supplied them- 
selves with some source of heat. In some places, 
however, there was a common hall or combination 
room in which a fire was built in cold weather. You 
must remember, also, that glass windows were an ex- 
ceptional luxury until toward the close of the period 
under discussion. In Padua the windows of the 
schools were made of linen. In 1643 ^ glass window 
was for the first time introduced into the Theological 
School at Prague. In 1600 the rooms inhabited by 
some of the junior fellows at Cambridge were still 
unprovided with glass windows. Add to these hard- 
ships the relative expense of lights, when the average 
price of candles was nearly two pence per pound, 
and you will see that the poorest student could not 
afford to study by artificial light. Some of the senior 
students may have had bedsteads, but the younger 
students slept mostly upon the floor. In some places 
there were cisterns or troughs of lead, or occasionally 
pitchers and bowls were provided, but usually the stu- 
dent had to resort to the public lavatory in the hall. 

Along with these hardships consider the amuse- 
ments of this period, which were for the greater part 
conspicuous by their absence. Statutes concerning 
amusements were often more stringent than those 
concerning crime or vice. These were essentially mil- 
itary times, and tournaments, hunting, and hawking, 
which were enjoyed by the upper social classes, were 
considered too expensive and distracting for univer- 
sity students, and were consequently forbidden. "Mor- 



STUDENT LIFE 215 

tificatlon of the flesh" was the cry of those days, as 
even now among some religious fanatics. Even play- 
ing with a ball or bat was at times forbidden, along 
with other "insolent games." A statute of the six- 
teenth century speaks of tennis and fives as among 
"indecent games" whose introduction would create 
scandal in and against the college. Games of chance 
and playing for money were also forbidden; never- 
theless, they were more or less practised. Even chess 
enjoyed a bad reputation among the mediaeval moral- 
ists, and was characterized by a certain bishop of 
Winchester as a "noxious, inordinate, and unhonest 
game." Dancing was rather a favorite amusement, 
but was repressed as far as possible, since the cele- 
brated William of Wykeham found it necessary to 
prohibit dancing and jumping in the chapel. Appar- 
ently, then, in those days a good student amused 
himself little, if at all, and had to find his relaxa- 
tion in the frequent interruptions caused by church 
holidays. At St. Andrew's, in Scotland, however, 
two days' holiday was allowed at carnival time ex- 
pressly for cock-fighting. On the evenings of festival 
days entertainments were occasionally provided by 
strolling players, jesters, or mountebanks, who were 
largely patronized by students. 

Altogether, it is not strange that students in those 
days fell into dissolute habits, many having to be ex- 
pelled or punished. We can even understand how 
some of them actually turned highwaymen and way- 
laid their more peaceful brothers as they approached 



2i6 STUDENT LIFE 

the universities with money for the ensuing season. 
In the archives of the University of Leipzig there are 
standard forms of proclamation against even such 
boyish follies as pea-shooting, destruction of trees and 
crops, throwing water out of the window upon pass- 
ers-by, shouting at night, wearing of disguises, inter- 
fering with a hangman in the execution of his duty, 
or attending exhibitions of wrestling, boxing, and the 
like. 

Evidently, then, university life had its exceeding- 
ly wild side. One needs only to recall the history of 
the famous Latin Quarter in Paris to be convinced 
of this. This was the students' quarter in the old 
city of Paris as extended by Philip Augustus across 
the river. Paris then was surrounded by a cordon of 
monasteries, whose abbots exercised jurisdiction over 
their surrounding districts. Just to the west of the 
student quarter stood the great Abbey of St. Ger- 
main. BetTvxen the monks of this monastery and the 
students there were frequent conflicts, and it is re- 
corded that in 1278, for instance, a pitched battle oc- 
curred between the monks, under their provost, on 
one side, and the unarmed and defenceless boys and 
masters, on the other, during which many were bad- 
ly wounded, and some mortally. The matter was 
finally carried to court, and the monks were re- 
quired to perform certain penances and to pay certain 
fines. Their brutality, however, was not effectually 
suppressed. In 1304 the Provost of Paris hanged 
and gibbetted a student, and was punished therefor 



STUDENT LIFE 217 

by the king; while the subsequent history of Paris is 
one of constant conflict between students and the cler- 
ical orders. On the other hand, the clerical tonsure 
in which the Parisian scholar clothed himself enabled 
him to indulge in all kinds of crime, without fear 
of that summary execution which would have been 
his fate had he been merely an ordinary beggar. 

Bibulousness was another striking characteristic 
of mediaeval university life. In those days they knew 
not tea nor coffee nor tobacco, but spirituous liquors 
in some form were far from unknown to them. No 
important event of life could be transacted without 
its drinking accompaniment. At all exercises, public 
or private, wine was freely provided, and many of the 
feasts and festivals which began with mass were con- 
cluded with a drunken orgie. 

You have observed that so far I have made fre- 
quent mention of clerical matters. In truth, in north- 
ern Europe the Church included practically all the 
learned professions, including the civil servants of 
the government, the physicians, architects, secular 
lawyers, diplomatists, and secretaries, who were all 
ecclesiastics. It is true that in order to be a "clerk'' 
it was not really necessary to take even minor orders, 
but it was so easy for a king or bishop to reward 
his physician, his lawyer, or his secretary by a monas- 
tic office rather than by a large salary, that the aver- 
age student, at least in the larger places, looked to 
holy orders as his eventual destination. How much 
of insincerity and hypocrisy there were among those 



2i8 STUDENT LIFE 

reverend gentlemen thus constituted you may imagine 
better than I can picture. The Reformation, as well 
as the increasing corruption of the monastic orders, 
brought about changes which were not rapid, but 
which became almost complete, and led finally to the 
partial restoration of the ancient dignity of the early 
Church. 

Without pursuing this part of the subject further, 
it may be imagined what a general alteration and 
reformation in all branches of study, as well as in 
the general intellectual life of the people, the found- 
ing of the universites accomplished. For the greater 
part designed for the confirmation of the faith, they 
often brought about a reaction against it. Like the 
other integral portions of the university, the medical 
departments of nearly all the mediaeval institutions 
came into existence through voluntary associations 
of physicians and would-be teachers. For a long 
time medicine was included under the general head of 
philosophy, whose standard-bearers were Aristotle 
and the Arabians. At Tubingen, in 148 1, the med- 
ical student's days were divided about as follows : In 
the morning he studied Galen's Ars Medici, and in 
the afternoon Avicenna on Fever. During the sec- 
ond year, in the forenoon he studied Avicenna's An- 
atomy and Physiology, and in the afternoon the ninth 
book of Rhazes on Local Pathology. The forenoons 
of his third year were spent with the Aphorisms of 
Hippocrates, and in the afternoon he studied Galen. 
If any text-book on surgery at all were used it was 



STUDENT LIFE 219 

usually that of Avicenna. Some time was also given 
to the writings of some of the other Arabian phy- 
sicians. At that time any man who had studied medi- 
cine for three years and attained the age of twenty- 
one might assume the role of teacher if he saw fit, 
being compelled only, at first, to lecture upon the 
preparatory branches. He was at that time called 
a haccalaiireus. After three years' further study he 
became a magister or doctor, although for the latter 
title a still further course of study was usually pre- 
scribed. The courses of medical instruction were 
quite stereotyped in form, and were carefully watched 
over by the Church. Nevertheless, it came about 
that the study of medicine once more was taken up 
by thinkers, although, unfortunately, not logical 
thinkers, whereas previously it had been almost en- 
tirely confined within the ranks of the clerics or cler- 
gy. The most celebrated of all these mediaeval phil- 
osophers in science and medicine was Albert von Boll- 
staedt, usually known as Albertus Magnus, who died 
in 1280. His works which remain to us fill twenty- 
one quarto volumes, in which he discussed both an- 
atomical and physiological questions. It is exceed- 
ingly illustrative of the foolishly speculative vein in 
which many of these discussions were carried on, that 
they seriously discussed such questions as whether the 
removal of the rib from Adam's side, out of which 
Eve was formed, really caused Adam severe pain, and 
whether at the judgment day that loss of rib would 
be compensated by the insertion of another. Those 



220 STUDENT LIFE 

were the days, also, when it was seriously discussed 
whether Adam or Eve ever had a navel. In spite of 
such follies, however, Albertus Magnus left an im- 
pression upon scholarship in science, in a general 
way, which long outlasted him. 

These were the days when the students organized 
themselves into so-called "nations," whence arose that 
conspicuous features of German university life of to- 
day of so-called students' Corps. These nations — 
each composed, for the main part, of men of one na- 
tionality — had their own meeting-places, their own 
property, etc. One of the principal means of in- 
struction In those days was disputations, or, as we 
would say, debates, held between students, often of 
different nations. In which they were expected to 
prove their knowledge and mental alertness. When 
It is recalled that universities were larger — i. e., bet- 
ter attended — in those days than now, it will be seen 
to what an extent these nations were developed. Ox- 
ford, In 1340, Is said to have had no less than 
14,000 students; Paris about the same time had 
12,000; and Bologna had some 10,000 students, the 
majority of whom were studying law. 

The title of doctor came Into vogue about the 
twelfth century. At first It was confined to teachers 
proper, and was bestowed upon the learned — I. e., 
those who had almost solely studied Internal medi- 
cine, and who were required to take an oath to main- 
tain the methods which had been taught them. For 
the title of doctor certain fees were paid, partly in 



STUDENT LIFE 221 

money and partly In merchandise. The so-called 
presents consisted of gloves, clothes, hats, caps, etc. 
At Salernum It cost about $60 to graduate In this 
way, while at Paris the cost was sometimes as high 
as $1,000, and this at a time when money had much 
more purchasing value than It has to-day. It was 
then, as now, a peculiar feature of the English uni- 
versities that but little systematic Instruction In med- 
ical science was given. Just as the majority of Eng- 
lish students at present study In London rather than 
at one of the great universities, so In those days did 
they go to Paris or Montpelller. 

This will be perhaps as good a place as any to 
emphasize the fact that the clergy, having so long 
monopolized all learning and teaching, and having, 
at the same time, an abhorrence for the shedding of 
blood, which Indeed had been prohibited by many 
papal bulls and royal edicts, permitted the practice 
of the operative part of medicine — I. e., surgery — 
to fall into the hands of the most illiterate and In- 
competent men. Inasmuch as the Church prohibited 
the wearing of beards, and as many of the religious 
orders also shaved their heads, there were attached 
to every monastery and to every religious order a 
number of barbers, whose duty was to take care of 
the clergy In these respects. Thus into their hands 
was gradually committed the performance of any 
minor operation which Involved the letting of blood, 
and from this, as a beginning. It came about that no 
really educated man concerned himself with the oper- 



222 STUDENT LIFE 

ations of surgery, but left them entirely to the illit- 
erate servants of the Church. This is really the rea- 
son that the barbers for many centuries did nearly all 
the surgery, and why, at the same time, surgery fell 
into such general and wide-spread disrepute. From 
this it was only revived about one hundred years ago. 
Did time permit, this would be a most appropriate 
place to digress from the subject of this paper and re- 
hearse to you the various stages in the evolution of 
the surgeon from the barber; but time does not per- 
mit it, and it constitutes a chapter in history by it- 
self, which must be relegated to some other occasion. 

(See p. 296). 

It was about the beginning of the fifteenth century 
that the better class of physicians began to belong to 
the laity, and were called "physici" in contrast to the 
''clerici." Later they were known as "doctores." Un- 
til the fourteenth century most of them studied in 
Italian or French universities, the Germans even be- 
ing compelled to go to these foreign institutions. In 
Paris they were required to take an oath that they 
would not join the surgeons. This regulation was 
founded as much upon spite and envy as upon any 
other motive. Many of the clerical physicians be- 
longed to the lower class, and were so ignorant that 
even the Church itself was forced to declare many of 
their successes miracles. Although monks and the 
clergy in general had been frequently forbidden to 
practice medicine, the decrees to this effect were quite 
generally disregarded, except in the matter of sur- 



STUDENT LIFE 223 

gical operations. In the ranks of the higher clergy 
It must be said that well-educated physicians were 
occasionally found. There Is, for Instance, the rec- 
ord of a certain bishop of Basel, who was deputed to 
seek from Pope Clement V. an archbishopric for 
another person, but finding the Pope seriously 111, 
cured him, and received for himself In return the elec- 
torate of Mayence, which was perhaps one of the 
largest honorariums ever given to a physician. 

These were the days when magic, mingled with 
mystery, played no small role In the practice of medi- 
cine, and when disgusting and curious remedies were 
quite In vogue. Superstition and Ignorance every- 
where played a most prominent part. For Instance, 
It was. In those days, an excellent remedy to creep 
under the coffin of a saint. When a person was 
poisoned It was considered wise to hang him up by 
the feet and perhaps to gouge out one of his eyes. In 
order that the poison might run out. It should be 
noted that putting out the eyes was frightfully com- 
mon in the Middle Ages, mainly as a matter of pun- 
ishment. It is said, for Instance, that the Emperor 
Basil II. on one occasion put out the eyes of 15,000 
Bulgarians, leaving one eye to one of every thousand. 
In order that he might lead his more unfortunate fel- 
low-sufferers back to their ruler, who, it Is said, at 
the sight of this outrage swooned and died in two 
days. It Is said, too, that this Is the reason why the 
Emperor Albrecht was one-eyed. 

What the revival of learning could thus and did 



224 STUDENT LIFE 

accomplish under these conditions as above portrayed 
may be readily appreciated. The restoration of Greek 
literature, the revival of anatomy, the habit of inde- 
pendent observation — all told materially in this re- 
naissance of medicine. The Italian universities be- 
came the objective point of all who desired a thor- 
ough medical education. The students chose the 
lecturers and officers of the university and had a large 
voice In the construction of the curriculum. The 
officers of their selection negotiated with those of the 
State, at least until the close of the sixteenth century. 

In spite of this general renaissance of medical 
learning and the impetus felt by the inspired few 
during the sixteenth century, it must be said that the 
general condition of medical science and of those 
who practised it was not greatly improved. The su- 
perstition of the common people and the timidity and 
Indolence of all concerned were about as marked as 
they have ever been in the history of human error, 
and the practice of medicine was at least a century 
behind the applied knowledge of the other arts and 
sciences. At that time the best physicians and doc- 
tors were to be found in the Italian universities, the 
French coming next, and, last of all, the German. 
The Italian universities were the Mecca sought by 
those who desired the best education of the day, and 
of all the Italian medical faculties those of Bologna, 
Pisa, and Padua ranked highest. 

Those were the days, also, of the travelling schol- 
ars — a very marked feature of medieval life. They 



STUDENT LIFE 225 

migrated from one of the Latin schools to another, 
and from one famous teacher to another, sometimes 
travelling alone, at other times in groups or bands, 
and practising often the worst barbarities while en 
route, supporting themselves by begging and stealing. 
On their marches they stole almost everything which 
was not tightly fastened down, and prepared their 
food even in the open fields. The result was that 
most of them fell into dissolute habits of life. A 
somewhat better class of vagrant students sang hymns 
before doors and received food as pay. Some earned 
money singing in the churches. They apparently both 
drank more beer and at less cost than at present. At 
that time the cost of beer was about one cent for a 
large glass. 

The younger students were called "schutzen," and, 
like apprentices in trades, were obliged to perform 
the most menial duties. The older students were 
known as the "bacchanten," and each bacchant was 
honored in proportion to the number of "schutzen'' 
who waited upon him. When, however, this bac- 
chant himself reached the university he was com- 
pelled to lay aside his rough clothing and rude man- 
ners and take an oath to behave himself. 

Not only the students, however, wandered from 
place to place, but even the professors of the six- 
teenth century were nomadic, wandering from one 
university to another; for example, Vesalius, the 
great teacher of anatomy, taught in Padua, in Pisa, 
in Louvain, in Basel, in Augsburg, and in Spain, 



226 STUDENT LIFE 

These habits may be partly accounted for by the fact 
that the students elected at least some of their teach- 
ers, and the professors who failed of re-election cer- 
tainly may be considered to have had a motive for 
moving on. Salaries were certainly not large in those 
days. Melanchthon, the great theologian, received 
during his first eight years a salary of $43 per an- 
num, and by strict economy was able during this peri- 
od to buy his wife a new dress. During his later 
years his salary attained the sum of $170, which 
would be equivalent to $750 to-day. When Vesalius 
died his salary was $1,000 per annum, to which cer- 
tain fees were added. It is not strange, therefore, 
that many of the professors pursued reputable occu- 
pations during their odd hours or that they took stu- 
dents to board. We hear to-day of frequent illustra- 
tions of the pursuit of knowledge under difficulty, but 
certainly during the ages to which I have referred the 
ardent student, were he undergraduate or professor, 
put up with an amount of hardship, meagre fare, and 
trouble of all kinds which would stagger most of the 
young men of to-day. 

Men were human then as now, and the universi- 
ties were not above disputes and quarrels, which 
sometimes became very bitter and dishonorable, but 
were the indirect instrument of good, since they led 
in not a few instances to the founding of other uni- 
versities. Thus, about the beginning of the sixteenth 
century, Pistorius and Pollich were both teachers in 
Leipzig, but holding antagonistic views regarding the 



J 



STUDENT LIFE 217 

nature of syphilis, became so embittered that they 
could not bear each other's presence, and each re- 
solved to seek another home. The former influenced 
the elector to select Frankfort-on-the-Oder as the site 
of a new university, while the latter was the means 
of founding another at Wittenberg. 

It is pretty hard to keep away from the relation 
of the barber to the anatomist and surgeon when dis- 
cussing this subject. In another place I have dealt 
with the evolution of the surgeon from the barber, 
(See page 296) and have endeavored to show that 
the principal factor which operated to keep back the 
progress of surgery during the eighteen centuries pre- 
vious to the last was the influence of the Church, 
which opposed the study of anatomy and degraded 
the practice of surgery. In the times to which I am 
referring now, an operation which caused the shed- 
ding of blood was considered beneath the dignity of 
an educated physician, and, in some circles, was re- 
garded even as disreputable. It was, therefore, left 
to the only class of men who were supposed to know 
how to handle a knife or sharp instrument, i. e., the 
barbers. When operations were done in universities 
papal Indulgences were often required, and these cost 
money, since in those days the Pope gave nothing for 
nothing. Public dissection required also papal in- 
dulgences, although in Strasburg, in 15 17, permission 
to dissect the body of an executed criminal was grant- 
ed by the magistrates in spite of papal prohibition. 

The ceremonies attending demonstrations of this 



228 STUDENT LIFE 

kind were both fantastic and amusing. A corpse was 
ordinarily regarded as disreputable, and had first to 
be made reputable by reading a decree to that effect 
from the chief magistrate or lord of the land, and 
then, by order of the University, stamping the body 
with the seal of the corporation. It was carried upon 
the cover of the box in which it had been transported 
into the anatomical hall, which cover, upon which it 
rested through the ceremonies, was taken back af- 
terward to the executioner, who remained at some 
distance with his vehicle. If the corpse was that of 
one who had been beheaded, the head during the per- 
formance of these solemn ceremonies lay between its 
legs. After the completion of the ceremonies the oc- 
casion was graced with music by the city fifers, trum- 
peters, etc., or an entertainment was given by itiner- 
ant actors (Baas). 

In time, however, this folly was given up, and by 
the latter half of the sixteenth century public an- 
atomical theatres were established. The most cele- 
brated was built by Fabricus ab Aquapendente, in 
Padua. It was so high, however, and so dark that 
dissections even in broad daylight could only be made 
visible by torchlight. 

The zeal with which gradually the better class of 
physicians pursued their scientific studies became more 
and more conspicuous, evidenced in many ways by 
the hardships with which some of them had to deal, 
as witness the struggles of many of the great anatom- 
ists of those days. 



STUDENT LIFE 229 

And so in time the clergy disappeared almost en- 
tirely from the ranks of public physicians, and after 
the Thirty Years' War completely lost their suprem- 
acy even in literary matters, this being gradually 
usurped by the nobility and the more educated lay- 
men; but even then knowledge was pursued under 
difficulties, especially the study of anatomy. It was 
not until 1658 that a mounted skeleton could be found 
in Vienna. Strasburg obtained one in 1671. The 
handling of the dead body, which we regard as so 
necessary, was in those days avoided as much as pos- 
sible. The professor of anatomy rarely, if ever, 
touched it himself, but he lectured or read a lecture 
while the actual dissection was done with a razor by 
a barber, under his supervision. 

Practical instruction in obstetrics, which would 
seem almost as important as that in anatomy, was 
not given in those days; male students only studied 
it theoretically. In the Hotel Dieu, in Paris, that 
part which was devoted to instruction in midwifery 
was closed against men. It was the midwives in those 
days who enjoyed the monopoly of this teaching, and 
upon whom the greatest dependence for obstetrical 
ability was placed. The physicians proper, or medici 
puri of the seventeenth century, were individuals of 
greatest dignity and profoundest gravity, who wore 
fur-trimmed robes, perukes, and carried swords, who 
considered it beneath them to do anything more than 
write prescriptions in the old Galenic fashion. Some 
continuation of this is seen in the distinction made 



230 STUDENT LIFE 

even to-day in England between the physicians who 
enjoy the title of doctor and the surgeons who affect 
to disdain it. These old physicians knowing nothing 
of surgery, nevertheless demanded to be always con- 
sulted in surgical cases, claiming that only by this 
course could things go right. Still when elements of 
danger were introduced, as in treating the plague, 
they were glad enough to send the barber surgeons 
into the presence of the sick, whom they merely in- 
spected through panes of glass. Very entertaining 
pictures could be furnished you illustrating the habits 
of the physicians of two or three hundred years ago 
in dealing with these contagious cases. The masks 
and armor which they wore and the precautions which 
they took would seem to indicate protection rather 
against the weapons of mediaeval warfare. At one 
time they were advised that if they must go into ac- 
tual contact with these patients they should first re- 
peat the Twenty-second Psalm. You may find in the 
old books, if you will hunt for them, curious pictures 
illustrating the precautions taken a few hundred years 
ago against the pestilence, of whose nature they knew 
nothing, and seeing them you may imagine the vague 
dread and even the abject fear which led the physici 
puri or physicians to send the barbers in to minister 
to plague-stricken patients, while they contented them- 
selves with ministering at long range to their needs. 

But gentlemen, I fear lest I weary you with a long- 
er rehearsal of mediaeval customs and student follies. 
While they have all passed away some of them have 



STUDENT LIFE 231 

survived either in tradition or In modified form, as 
will surely have occurred to you while they were re- 
hearsed. You will not fall to note the steady progress 
of an ethical evolution which has toned down the 
barbarities and the asperities of the past, and which 
has substituted a far more ennobling life-purpose and 
method of Its accomplishment than seemed to actuate 
your predecessors of long ago. 

It is small wonder that the students of those days 
bore an Ill-repute with their surrounding neighbors. 
You may see better now, perhaps, why the medical 
student even of to-day has to contend with a preju- 
dice against both his calling and himself, a prejudice 
begotten of the many debaucheries and misdeeds of 
his predecessors, and, I am sorry to say, even cer- 
tain excesses of to-day. I do not know how I may 
more fittingly terminate these remarks than by re- 
minding you that the profession which you students 
hope to enter has suffered most seriously in time past 
from the character of the men who have entered it, 
and that even to-day certain of Its members fail to 
have a proper regard for its dignity. It is axiomatic 
that those slights and indignities from which we often 
suffer, and the neglect and Indifference of which we 
often complain, are In effect the result of our own 
shortcomings, and that we are ourselves largely to 
blame because of that which does not suit us. I beg 
you then to remember that even at the outset of stu- 
dent life there should be ever before you such an 
ideal of intellectual force and dignity, of power, of 



232 STUDENT LIFE 

co-ordination of mind and body, as may keep you 
ever in the right way, so that when you at last at- 
tain your goal you may deserve that sort of benedic- 
tion which I find in one of Beaumont and Fletcher's 
plays {Custom of the Country^ v. iv.) : 

"So may you ever 
Be styled the 'Hands of Heaven,' Nature's restorers; 
Get wealth and honors, and, by your success 
In all your undertakings, propagate 
A great opinion in the world." 



IX 

A STUDY OF MEDICAL WORDS, DEEDS 

AND MEN* 

Study nature for facts; study lives of great men for 
inspiration how to use them 

N~^EVER have I more earnestly craved the 
gift of eloquence than on occasions like 
this, when young men are about to leave 
the halls in which and the men with whom 
they have grown into man's estate, in order to as- 
sume the solemn and weighty responsibilities not only 
of their own lives but those as well of others. The 
day upon which you are thus released from duties of 
one kind to assume those of another, welcome and 
joyous though it may be, should nevertheless be in- 
terspersed with some serious and earnest thoughts 
and resolutions. Old Yale sets now her stamp upon 
you. It will prove a passport to many homes, but must 
never be abused. It will entitle you to the society 
of the cultivated and to the respect of scholars every- 
where. It will admit you to the ranks of the learned 
and cause you to be treated with respect and equality 
by some of the profoundest and most scholarly think- 
ers the world has even known. Yale has now fur- 



*Address in Medicine, delivered June 24, 1902, at Yale Uni- 
versity Commencement. 

[Reprinted from the Yale Medical Journal, July, 1902.] 



234 WORDS, DEEDS AND MEN 

nished you with that which her ripe experience has 
shown to be requisite for young men commencing pro- 
fessional careers. As contrasted with the total of hu- 
man knowledge its aggregate is not large, but it has 
not for centuries been the custom for men to grow 
gray in studies before undertaking to practice medi- 
cine, and when your own qualifications are compared 
with those which we of the passing generation pos- 
sessed at the corresponding period of our lives, the 
comparison will furnish at the same time the most 
startling illustration of the rapid advance of medicine 
in the past twenty-five years. 

Yale has always been eminent for the versatility 
and originality of her teachers. Her medical history 
has been so w^ell told during the past year by one of 
her most honored sons. Dr. Welch, that it is not 
necessary nor wise to go now into such historical de- 
tails. The trend of science to-day is along the lines 
of comparative investigation, and the Bible is by no 
means the only literary collection which to-day is 
being subjected to the ''higher criticism." The in- 
spiration claimed for the contributors to that great 
ancient Collection is denied to the writers of great 
modern works, where, nevertheless, fundamental 
truth is as requisite for the welfare of the body as in 
the other for that of the soul. Only by painstaking 
research, laboriously repeated, do we clear the old 
paths of the rubbish of centuries or discover totally 
new ones. 

Pathfinders of this description have always abound- 



WORDS, DEEDS AND MEN 235 

ed In this great institution, drawn by common im- 
pulses or attracted by some centripetal force. And 
though it were perhaps invidious to mention names, I 
nevertheless must select two of Yale's great teachers 
whose names are still green in the memory of all 
men, and ask you to note how the examples they have 
set and the work they have done may furnish the line 
of thought in which I wish you to follow me for a 
little while. 

The science of comparative philology would seem 
to be far removed from that of medicine. Still, it is 
based upon an ultimate analysis of parts of speech, 
and men like Professor Whitney were, not only the 
comparative anatomists, but even the histologlsts — 
if I may use the phrase — of words. Comparative 
philology then is to medical terminology what em- 
bryology and comparative anatomy are to a study of 
the structure of the human body. The philologist 
loves to dissect words and trace them back through 
rudimentary stages and roots to their earliest forms. 
He loves also to study the evolution of an idea as 
conveyed by a word, and trace atavism or reversion 
In human speech. 

Again you have here at Yale a wonderful collec- 
tion of extinct animal remains restored with mar- 
vellous accuracy to semblance of their original form 
and appearance. The Indefatigable industry and 
wonderful ability of Professor Marsh and his co- 
workers have enabled us to form ideographs of the 
living forms of earlier geologic ages upon this earth, 



236 WORDS, DEEDS AND MEN 

which could not have been furnished had it not been 
for their remarkable knowledge of morphology and 
skill in synthesis. Indeed, where have powers of 
analysis and synthesis been more brilliantly displayed 
than by these men. It used to be said of Cuvier, the 
great French comparative anatomist, that if given a 
tooth from any beast, past or present, he could de- 
scribe the animal and its habits as well as reconstruct 
his skeleton, so wonderfully are minute differences 
perpetuated, and so familiar was he with them. 

Let us see, then, if it be possible to take some of 
our common medical words and by applying to them 
the methods of Whitney and of Marsh follow them 
back to their early forms and significances, and then 
construct from them ideographs of the customs, hab- 
its and superstitions of the men who used them. 
Such a plan systematically carried out might furnish 
both a fitting and a novel introduction to the history 
of medicine. Coleridge, you know, said we might of- 
ten derive more useful knowledge from the history 
of a word than from the history of a campaign. 

Take, for instance, our word idiocy. The Greeks, 
especially the Athenians, were a race of politicians. 
Private citizens who cared little or naught for office 
were the idiotai, as distinguished from the public of- 
ficials and office holders. It came about in time that 
men of such retiring habits and modest tastes were 
regarded as persons of degraded intellect and taste. 
And so the iviwrai were considered of inferior intel- 
lectual capacity. In other words, the idiot of those 



WORDS, DEEDS AND MEN 237 

days was the man content with private life. How 
different from the present day when conditions seem 
so nearly reversed. 

Our kindred word imbecile has also present refer- 
ence to those of feeble, dwarfed or perverted intel- 
lect, and refers rather to mental than physical defects, 
though both must often be associated. But originally 
the lame and the deformed who were obliged to use 
artificial support, walked as it was said, in hacillum, 
upon a stick or crutch, and from this expression we 
derive our word imbecile. 

Let us trace, for instance, again, the etymology of 
our word palate. The Latin palatum is the same as 
balatum, that is, the bleating part. The ancient shep- 
herds of the region of the Campagna watched the 
sheep as they went bleating (balatans) over those 
hills, one of which subsequently became the Palatine. 

Or take again our word mania. It is derived from 
unv the moon, meaning the moon — sickness, and cor- 
responds to lunacy from luna. You see the ancient 
superstition concerning the influence of the moon 
abides in the name. This brings up again the old 
ideas concerning the metal silver which was sacred 
alike to Diana and the moon, and consequently femi- 
nine in sex and attributes. Hence comes the me- 
diaeval alchemistic term lunar caustic, and Mence, too, 
comes its use in the treatment of epilepsy for which it 
was formerly much in use, since epilepsy was regard- 
ed as a form of mania caused by the evil influence of 
the moon. 



238 WORDS, DEEDS AND MEN 

By the way, this may also remind us of the pecu- 
liar views of the alchemists of the middle ages, who 
believed that the property of sex inhered in the met- 
als. They believed, for example, that arsenic was 
masculine in sex, and so named it from arsen, male, 
and arsenikos, masculine. Medical, like compara- 
tive philology, is the more or less direct outcome of 
the earth's physical features as they have influenced 
the commingling of races and the conquest of nations. 

Medicine seems a science of Aryan parentage; in 
the Sanscrit the literature of medicine is rich; it was 
cultivated by the Greeks, but it lost much of its orig- 
inal significance by virtue of Roman supremacy, as 
the Latin races took it over. Under the Arabians 
It flourished after a fashion. With the revival of 
Greek learning there was a restoration of much that 
had been lost, but the supremacy of the Church kept 
it within extremely narrow limits, though the clericals 
could not eliminate all the Arabian words which had 
crept into its terminology. Greek is to-day the 
language to which we turn for aid when it becomes 
necessary to invent new terms by which to indicate 
fresh discoveries or concepts. 

The debt of medicine to our Aryan forefathers Is 
great. Surgery was then a dignified branch of the 
science. Their autoplastic methods were conceived 
with great ingenuity and carried out with much, al- 
beit with crude skill. The so-called Indian method 
of reconstructing a nose bears witness to their ability 
in plastic art. Their Itinerant surgeons performed 



WORDS, DEEDS AND MEN 239 

many capital operations; I. e., lithotomy and coellot- 
omy. There Is good reason to believe that HIppo- 
crltes knew nothing of practical anatomy, whereas, 
long before him Susruta urged that all physician 
priests should dissect the human body In order that 
they might know Its structure; and gave, moreover, 
directions for the selection of suitable subjects. The 
Sanscrit writers knew the properties of many plants 
and of at least five of the metals. Many Greek names 
of drugs are derived from the Sanscrit, or else they 
had a common Aryan origin. Thus the Greek equiv- 
alents for our words castor, musk, cardamon, chest- 
nut, hemp, mace, pepper, sandal-wood, ginger, nerve, 
marrow, bone, heart, and head, are unmistakably of 
much older, i. e., Sanscrit or Aryan stock, several of 
them coming down In Romanized form, but almost 
unchanged — e. g., os, cor, moschus, cannabis, cas- 
torion. 

Although many of the ancient Greeks visited In- 
dia, It appears that but relatively few words have 
come to us from this ancient source. 

Our word sulphur, though, is of Sanscrit origin, 
the Greek work theion indicating Its divine or god- 
given purifying power, with possible allusion to its 
utility In that lower world with which the theologians 
most often associate it. The Greek word appears 
In our chemical nomenclature as dithlonic, trithionic, 
etc. 

We note also an almost complete absence of Egyp- 
tian words, though many cultured Greeks visited 



240 WORDS, DEEDS AND MEN 

Egypt. Nevertheless, the latter looked with small 
favor on barbarisms of speech, and our word pyra- 
mid is one of the very few which they thus adopted. 
The term surgery is of very distinct Greek origin, and 
meant handwork as distinguished from the action of 
internal remedies. Medicine seems to be derived 
from medeo to take care of, to provide, and physic 
and physician from phusis, i. e., nature. The physici 
were originally naturalists, or scientists, like Aristotle, 
medical science being but a part of their study. Camp- 
bell in his book ("The Language of Medicine") 
gives a list of at least two dozen common terms of 
to-day which were employed by Homer. In addition 
to these, many other Homeric terms are still in use, 
but with more or less altered or perverted meanings; 
for example, aether, when used in the sense of its being 
a narcotic agency; astragalus, which originally meant 
a die, since the analogous bones of the sheep were 
used for dice; amoeba, from amoibe, change or alter- 
ation, alluding to constant change of shape. Am- 
mon originally meant a young lamb, iris a halo, me- 
conium has reference to the juice of the poppy, from 
mekon, opium; molybdenum was so named from its 
resemblance to lead, narcosis originally meant numb- 
ness ; the pleura was the side ; the original phial was 
a saucer; the phalanges were so called because they 
were arranged side by side as it were in a phalanx; 
our troche was at first a wheel; and our tympanum 
was the original Greek drum, the word still persist- 
ing in musical terminology. The arteries were so 



WORDS, DEEDS AND MEN 241 

named because they were supposed to contain air, 
while the veins were the gushers, from phleo, to gush 
or flow. The original confusion of nerves and ten- 
dons appears in the term aponeurosis. 

Long ago there were two rival medical factions 
among the Greeks, the Empirics, from empeirikos, 
meaning experimental — who believed there were no 
philosophic underlying principles of medical science, 
and that experience alone was the safe guide, — and 
the Methodists, from methodos, who believed it bet- 
ter to follow the hodos, or "middle of the road." The 
present use of the word empiric shows the contempt 
with which the former came to be regarded. 

As cure {euro) meant to care for, so did medicus 
have the same meaning, as already remarked, while 
the Greek slave, therapon, who waited on his master, 
became later the therapeutist who cared for his ail- 
ments. Our word to heal has also a somewhat sim- 
ilar dislocated meaning, since originally it meant pro- 
tection, i. e., covering. The same root persists in 
hell, i. e., hades, referring to a certain supposititious 
locality so well covered that from it there is no 
escape. 

Note, too, the influence of ancient mythology in 
medical phraseology. Jupiter Ammon, the horned 
god, is recognized in hartshorn or ammonia. Mars, 
the god of war, whose symbol is iron, persists in the 
so-called martial preparations or ferruginous tonics. 
Venus and Aphrodite naturally appear in venereal 
and aphrodisiac, while Vulcan's role is indicated in 



242 WORDS, DEEDS AND MEN 

the heat to which caoutchouc is subjected in vulcaniz- 
ing rubber. Mercury appears not only in Roman 
form as a metal, but in his Greek role as Hermes, not 
to be forgotten when receptacles are hermetically 
sealed. Let us cut short a longer list by simply not- 
ing in passing how the Greek Cupid Eros and his 
mate Psyche are perpetuated in our terms erotic and 
psychiatry, while Morpheus, the god of sleep, can 
never be forgotten so long as morphine is in use. 
That the wrath of the gods was to be dreaded is 
indicated in our word plague, from plege, meaning 
a blow from that source, that is their vengeance. You 
thus see the antiquity of the notion that epidemics 
were a divine visitation, and not due to bad sanita- 
tion. 

Melancholia, melas and chole, meant originally 
black bile. In ancient physiology the bile played a 
very important part, and the results of hepatic insuf- 
ficiency were not only indicated by this name, but the 
advantages of the use of calomel were amply empha- 
sized by its name, kalos and melas, for it was a beau- 
tiful remedy for this blackness. Another condition 
indicating trouble with the liver, which we call jaun- 
dice to-day (from the French jaunisse), was known 
as icterus horn ikteros, a yellow bird. The poultice 
which the average housewife of to-day is so fond of 
using, was originally a polios, or pudding, or per- 
haps a bean porridge. 

In the days of ancient sacrifices one part of 
the animal was not placed upon the altar as an offer- 



WORDS, DEEDS AND MEN 243 

Ing to delight the gods. It was that now known as 
the sacrum, which Is usually defined to have been con- 
sidered the sacred bone. The adjective sacer (sac- 
rum), had not only the meaning generally ascribed 
to it, but meant also execrable, detestable, accursed. 
The sacrum meant then rather the part that was not 
acceptable to those to whom it was offered. The 
word calculus, like the term to calculate, must re- 
mind us of the presence of pebbles and their early use 
in facilitating reckoning, while our common terms 
testimony, testify, must necessarily recall the ancient 
sacred but phallic methods of oath-taking. Another 
superstition connected with deity is perpetuated in the 
term iliac passion, formerly applied to volvulus, or 
one form of acute bowel obstruction with its violent 
pain, which has been compared to that produced by 
the spear-point as part of the suffering upon the cross. 

A keen analysis of the situation at the beginning 
of the Christian Era reveals the subtlety of the Greek 
character. The names of those organs which called 
for deep investigation or dissection are taken directly 
from the Greek, e. g., hepatic, sphenoid, ethmoid, the 
aorta, while many of the superficial parts have Latin 
names, e. g., temporal, frontal. 

It is to the Greek that all nations almost Invariably 
turn when they seek to fashion new terms with which 
to characterize or name new discoveries. The Ro- 
mans showed their appreciation of that which was 
good when they so readily adopted the science and 
learning of the Greeks, and were willing to take over 



244 WORDS, DEEDS AND MEN 

even their gods. The Latin races have always been 
good imitators but poor originators, save perhaps 
in war and politics. Had they been willing to imi- 
tate the Greeks in these their history might have been 
very different. When the Latin translators of Greek 
medical literature lacked* for a word they cheerfully 
took the original, sometimes giving it a Latin dress. 
For instance, that which we now call the duodenum, 
meaning only twelve, was originally the dodekadaktu- 
lon, meaning that it was of a length equal to the 
width of twelve fingers, while they twisted the name 
eileon, the twisted intestine, into ileum. But the 
names of most diseases, like those of the more con- 
cealed parts, they copied almost exactly. | 
While in later ages the Church completely dom- j 
inated, then subordinated, and then finally almost ter- \ 
minated the study of the natural sciences, it is yet of 
no small interest to note the effect of the rise of Chris- 
tianity upon the study of medicine. It has been well 
said that the same "cross which brought light to re- 
hgion cast a gloom over philosophy" (Campbell). 
Certain it is that the creed and the tenets which were 
for centuries the mainstay of Christianity, and which 
did so much for the uplifting of mankind, were made 
the excuse for the gradual suppression of all tendency 
toward investigation of natural phenomena, and the 
monasteries, where scholars congregated, became the 
graves of scientific thought and study. And so in 
time knowledge was exiled from Christian domiciles 
and transplanted to a Mohammedan environment. 



WORDS, DEEDS AND MEN 245 

With Christian mythology and mysticism soon came 
also Christian demonolgy, and disease was generally 
regarded as an evidence of diabolical possession. This 
gave rise then, as even now, to the imposters who 
pretended to cure it by exorcism of evil spirits or in- 
vocation of divine or superhuman aid. It has always 
been a sorry time for rational medicine when super- 
stition is rife. Even under the Arabians science 
flourished to but a limited extent. Their religion 
forbade the portrayal of any living object, animal or 
vegetable, consequently their works contained mere 
descriptions, never any illustration of any kind. This, 
by the way, is the explanation of their fondness for 
geometric tracery and of the richness of their orna- 
mental designs. They professed the same horror of 
the dead body that was later inculcated by the 
Church and most of them scorned dissection. What 
wonder then that under Christianity and Islam alike 
our profession fared badly. 

But very little now remains in our terminology to 
remind us of the period of Arabian supremacy. The 
Arabic words naphtha, sumach, alkali, alcohol, 
elixir and nucha (neck) are almost the only ones 
which have survived the renaissance. How different 
the monkish Latin sometimes is from the classic may 
appear in the use of the two words os and bucca for 
mouth, or os frontis and glabella for the frontal 
bone. 

But this enumeration must not be prolonged un- 
duly. Let us select three or four more examples al- 



246 WORDS, DEEDS AND MEN 

most at random and then pass on. But few will as- 
sociate Christianity with cretinism. The early Chris- 
tian inhabitants of the Pyrenees were known as 
Christaas, or in French, as to-day, as Chretiens. A 
mountainous region did for them what it has done 
in Switzerland for the races of to-day, and dwarfed 
the intellects of many while their thyroids underwent 
great enlargement. Such degenerates are known 
everywhere to-day as cretins, i. e., Christians. 

Tarentum was the old Calabrian city later known 
as Tarento, where during the middle ages the danc- 
ing mania appeared in aggravated form. The frenzy 
was known in consequence as tarantism, while the 
spider whose bite was supposed to cause it was called 
tarantula, and a rapid dance music which alone 
would suit such rapid movements is still known as the 
tarantella. 

Nightmare has reference to the old Norse deity or 
demigod Mara, who was supposed to strangle peo- 
ple during sleep. 

The Sardonic grin has reference to a tradition 
that in Sardinia was found a plant which when eaten 
caused people to laugh so violently that they died. 

But turn we now from words to those deeds which 
are reputed to proclaim yet more loudly the manner 
and the worth of their authors. Where may one look 
for a profession which shall afford greater opportuni- 
ties ? And where may he find one in which incentives 
are so small? The world's great rewards have been 
paid to the great destroyers of our race rather than 



WORDS, DEEDS AND MEN 247 

to its saviors. Do you suppose that if Napoleon had 
saved as many lives as he lost he would have figured 
in history, with his present lustre? It is true that 
Lister's discovery has saved many more lives than 
Napoleon took. If so, the Hotel des Invalides should, 
when the time comes, contain Lister's monument and 
not that of a great murderer. 

Personal courage is one of the noblest characteris- 
tics which any man can display, particularly so when 
it combines the moral and the physical type. Public 
bravery brings nearly always its meed of public recog- 
nition. In fact, publicity is often the stimulus to a 
kind of bravery which without it would hardly re- 
spond to the tests. But your really courageous man 
is he who cares not for a search-light to reveal his 
deeds, one who dares and does within the quietude 
of his own environment that from which his weaker 
brothers would shrink. 

The soldier stirred to frenzy by the intensity of his 
passion will accomplish with but little dread that 
which might easily baffle the resolution of a reason- 
ing man in a calm mood. The religious fanatic, be 
he Mussulman or Christian, may permit himself to 
be rent asunder rather than recant; but his motives 
are essentially selfish, since he looks forward to the 
Mohammedan's or the Christian's paradise, and so 
they are far from altruistic. But for that quiet hero- 
ism which shuns publicity, which calls for the highest 
quality of both mental and physical courage, which 
looks forward neither to the golden present nor the 



248 WORDS, DEEDS AND MEN 

mystical yet sensuous future, commend me daily, yes 
hourly, to the sick rooms of patients suffering from 
diseases which menace the welfare of others, the in- 
fectious, the dangerous, the loathsome. One may 
read of late many stories of army surgeons doing 
heroic deeds under fire, and one's heart naturally 
thrills with emotion as he imagines the scenes and 
wonders what manner of daring may lead a man to 
risk his life after this fashion. But I submit to you, 
that brave as is such a deed and worthy of all possi- 
ble honor, it has been hundreds of times for one ex- 
ceeded in the actual devotion to duty and the resolu- 
tion required to brave the elements, or to face death 
elsewhere than on the battlefield, or to surrender 
strength or mayhap life itself, or to invite disaster 
by infection, or to wear out and work out life in the 
constant grinding altruistic work of doing for others, 
who perhaps have violated every known sanitary law 
and forfeited their every right to live. 

Here is a theme that might well stir the most elo- 
quent poet or orator that ever lived. How then shall 
I do it justice? Joanna Bailie has well put it: 

"The brave man is not he who feels no fear. 
For that were stupid and irrational ; 
But he whose nobler soul its fear subdues, 
And bravely dares the danger Nature shrinks 
fro-n." 

This rec ignition of our profession was accorded 
much more unstintingly nearly two thousand years 



WORDS, DEEDS AND MEN . 249 

ago, at a time when It was much less deserved, when 
Cicero wrote {De Natura Deorum) ^^ Homines ad 
inibus dando." (Men are never more godlike than 
when giving health to mankind). 

But we can hardly delay longer here and at this 
time with the subject of heroism in medicine. I 
shall not have completed the matters which I wish 
to present to you to-day until I invite your attention 
to a short sketch of the careers of four or Rve of 
the men who, during the past two or three hundred 
years have set the example for men of all times and 
most climes, whose lives are so replete with that 
which is Interesting, instructive or important that they 
may be well held up before a graduating class as il- 
lustrations of everything which may be advantage- 
ously imitated. They belong to that class of whom 
Longfellow wrote: 

"Lives of great men all remind us 
We can make our lives sublime." 

One of those was Jean Fernel, who was bom in 
France about 1497 and died in 1558. I do not know 
that his life history offers anything so very startling, 
although he came to be regarded as the most memor- 
able physiologist of his generation, but he adopted 
a motto which I think we all might well select for 
our own, and It was because of this r^otto that I 
have mentioned his name at this point. yJt was this: 
^^Destiny reserves for us repose enougnr If each 



250 WORDS, DEEDS AND MEN 

of you will take this individually to himself he will 
find in it stimulus enough for all kinds of hard work. 
The first of the eminently great men now to be 
mentioned in this connection was Herman Boerhaave, 
born in 1668 and died in 1738. He enjoyed the rep- 
utation of being perhaps the most eminent physician 
who ever lived. The eldest son of a poor clergyman 
with a large family, he was originally intended for 
theology, and with this in view studied philosophy, 
history, logic, metaphysics, philology and mathemat- 
ics, as well as theology. A mere accident, resulting 
from intense party spirit and doctrinal differences, 
prevented his devoting his life to theology, and he 
turned next to mathematics and then to chemistry and 
botany, subsequently studying anatomy and medicine. 
He graduated in 1693 and began at once to practice in 
Leyden, with such success that he was early offered the 
position of ordinary surgeon to the king, which, how- 
ever, he had the moral courage to decline. Subse- 
quently he taught medicine and botany, to which 
chairs was also added later that of chemistry. This 
fact of itself will show to you something of the con- 
dition of medical science of that day, when one man 
could teach chemistry, botany and medicine. His 
rarest talents, however, were developed in the direc- 
tion of clinical instruction, and in this particular field 
he won such repute that hearers were attracted to 
Leyden from all quarters of the world and in such 
numbers that no university lecture-room was large 
enough to contain them. His practice grew in extent 



WORDS, DEEDS AND MEN 251 

and remunerativeness In pace with his reputation, 
and when he died he left an estate of two millions. 
So famous was he that it is said of him that a Chi- 
nese official once sent to him a letter addressed sim- 
ply "To the Most Famous Physician in Europe." 
That he had fixed convictions and practices may be 
better understood from the fact that so little differ- 
ence did he make between his patients that he kept 
Peter the Great waiting over one night to see him, 
declining to regulate his visiting list by the means or 
position of his patients. 

Boerhaave was universally regarded as a great stu- 
dent and a great physician, but It was probably his 
qualities as a man which led to the astonishing extent 
of his reputation. Essentially modest, not disputa- 
tious nor belligerent, he had a remarkable influence 
over the young men who came near him, while he had 
a habit of speaking oracularly or in aphorisms, which 
are not always so profound as they sound and yet 
often make a man's dicta celebrated. Save that he 
introduced the use of the thermometer and the ordin- 
ary lens In the examinations of his patients, his teach- 
ings do not form any really new system. In the 
classification of men he would be regarded as a great 
eclectic, In the purer sense of the term. Probably 
his greatest service to medicine was In the permanent 
establishment of the clinical method of instruction, 
and perhaps his next greatest real claim to glory is 
the character of the instruction and the inspiration 
which he gave to two of his greatest scholars, viz.: 



252 WORDS, DEEDS AND MEN 

Haller and Van Swieten. He was not the founder of 
a school. He left no great nor memorable doctrines 
for which others should contend, but he left a name 
for studlousness, honest and logical thinking, which 
was a priceless heritage for the university with which 
he was connected. 

The next great scholar to whose life and works I 
would invite your attention for a moment, is Mor- 
gagni, born in Italy in 1682, died in 1772. He was 
a pupil of Valsalva, whose assistant he became at the 
age of nineteen. Brought up in this way, as it were 
in the domain of anatomy, it is not strange that he 
devoted his attention throughout his life especially 
to the anatomical products of disease. It matters 
little to us now that he was wont to regard these pro- 
ducts as the causes of disease and thus neglected their 
remote causes. He it was who taught us to apply to 
pathological anatomy the same scrupulous attention 
to tissue alterations and changes which the ordinary 
anatomist would note in dissecting a new animal 
form. He was scarcely the founder of the science 
of pathological anatomy, for this credit belongs to 
Benivieni, but he did very much to popularize the 
study and to show its importance. More than this, 
he wrote a work which for his day and generation 
was colossal. It bore the title ^^De Sedibus et Causis 
Morhorum per Anatomen Indagatis.^' It consisted 
of five books. The first appeared in Venice in 1761. 
This proved a perfect mine of information to which 
one may often turn even to-day, and read with won- 



WORDS, DEEDS AND MEN 253 

der the observations published one hundred and fifty 
years ago. They stamp Morgagni as a great scien- 
tist as well as anatomist. His industry will be indi- 
cated by the fact that even after he became blind ht 
did not cease to work. 

Perhaps the most wonderful figure in the whole 
history of modern medicine is that of Albrecht von 
Haller, of Berne, born 1708, died 1777, and often 
known as the Great. No more versatile genius than 
his has ever adorned our profession. A most pre- 
cocious child, he developed remarkable abilities in the 
direction of poetry asd music, as well as medicine, 
and the only wonder is that he lived to such a ripe 
old age, enjoying the fruits of his labors, having dis- 
played throughout his entire life an industry and pro- 
ductiveness which were most remarkable. Before 
he reached the age of ten he had written a Chaldee 
grammar, a Greek and Hebrew vocabulary, and a 
large collection of Latin verses and biographies. Dur- 
ing the next few years he translated many of the 
Latin authors, and wrote an original epic poem of 
some four thousand verses on the Swiss Confeder- 
acy. All of this work he had completed by the age of 
twenty-one. It is not strange that among those who 
knew of his precocity he was generally known and re- 
garded as a "wonder child." It will thus be seen, 
too, that medicine was but one of the many subjects 
of his study. He studied a year in Tubingen, where 
the riotous living of his fellow students repelled him ; 
then he went to Leyden, falling there under the in- 



254 WORDS, DEEDS AND MEN 

fluence of the Illustrious Boerhaave. How much he 
drew from this source no man may accurately say at 
present, but a more brilliant example he certainly 
could not have had. He finished his studies In Ley- 
den before he was twenty and then traveled through 
England and France, but was compelled to flee from 
Paris to escape arrest for hiding cadavers In his room 
for purposes of dissection. This will prove an evi- 
dence of taste for study If not of taste in other direc- 
tions. 

Suddenly developing a passion for mathemat- 
ics, he went to Basle and worked so hard as to almost 
ruin his health. This necessitated a trip to the moun- 
tains and here his Interest In botany was aroused and 
Indirectly that In medicine continued. Soon after he 
returned to Berne to take up the practice of medicine. 
Here he studied and worked so hard as to arouse a 
suspicion of his sanity, but he kept up his health by 
frequent trips to the Alps In search of flowers. His 
fondness for botany and his taste for poetry seemed 
to grow with equal pace and he seems to have been 
among the first of modern students to appreciate the 
beauty and grandeur of Swiss mountain scenery. 
When he was twenty-five years of age appeared the 
first edition of his poems, many editions appearing 
later. Here In Berne also he published so many es- 
says on botany, anatomy and physiology that wide- 
spread attention was attracted to his eminent learn- 
ing, and he was called to fill the chair of anatomy and 
botany In the new university of Gottingen, where he 



WORDS, DEEDS AND MEN 255 

spent seventeen years of extraordinary mental activ- 
ity, publishing countless papers and at the same time 
continuing his poetic and his nomadic habits. He es- 
tablished in Gottingen a great botanic garden, found- 
ed scientific societies, published five books on anatomy, 
all elaborately illustrated, printed a series of commen- 
taries on Boerhaave's lectures, and is said to have 
contributed altogether thirteen thousand articles re- 
lating to almost every branch of human knowledge. 
It is not strange that the fame of the University of 
Gottingen depended largely upon Haller's reputa- 
tion. 

But Haller developed a clear case of nostalgia, 
and after being feted by the nobility, honored by al- 
most every monarch in Europe, and receiving every 
honor that universities and philosophic societies con- 
fer, he resigned from his chair in Gottingen and re- 
turned to Berne, to his fatherland. Here, amid his 
old home surroundings, he worked for twenty years 
more at the same tremendous rate, discharging di- 
verse duties of state and private citizenship, founding 
and promoting industries and asylums, and serving 
constantly upon commissions of all kinds. While thus 
engaged appeared that phenomenal work, his great 
Treatise on Physiology, so full of original observa- 
tions that it has been stated that should discoveries 
which have been re-discovered since Haller be collect- 
ed they would fill several quarto volumes. The 
physiological Institute of Berne is to-day known as 
the Hallerianum, as it should be, for it Is distinctly 



256 WORDS, DEEDS AND MEN 

the product of his genius. He died at a ripe age, 
after having performed an incredible amount of 
work, the greatest scholar of his own or perhaps of 
any century, revered and honored, faithful to the 
last and exhibiting In his last moments that "philo- 
sophic calmness of the cultivated intellect'' of which 
Cicero loved to write. It is related of him that on his 
deathbed he kept his fingers on his own wrist, watch- 
ing the ebbing away of his own existence and waiting 
for the last pulsation from his radial artery. Finally 
he exclaimed, "I no longer feel It," and then joined 
the great majority. 

Perhaps Haller's greatest contribution to physio- 
logical lore was his doctrine of Irritability of tissues. 
It took the place of much that had caused previous 
discussion and Is accepted to-day as explaining, as 
nearly as we can explain, numerous phenomena. 

In this same great wonder-century lived also John 
Hunter, the greatest of England's medical students, 
the most famous surgeon of his day and the most 
indefatigable collector In natural history and natural 
science that ever lived. He was born in 1728 and 
died In 1783. He was led to study medicine by the 
fame of his illustrous brother William, and began 
his studies by acting as prosector for him. He soon 
became a pupil of Cheselden, perhaps the mast fa- 
mous English surgeon of his generation. Hunter 
developed very early those extraordinary powers of 
observation and that originality In Investigation which 
later made him so famous. Early In his medical ca- 



WORDS, DEEDS AND MEN 257 

reer he came for a time under the influence of Perci- 
val Pott. This was at a time when surgery had 
emerged from barbarism and when the French Acad- 
emy of Surgery had erected it into the dignity of a 
science. He entered St. George's Hospital In 1754 
as a surgeon's pupil. Later he became a partner with 
his brother In the latter's private school of anatomy, 
but John, being a poor lecturer, was distinguished 
by his services In the dissecting-room rather than in 
the amphitheater. The customs of his time and the 
jealousies of the various medical factions then exist- 
ing in London led to numerous acrimonious disputes, 
in the literary part of which William Hunter, who 
was much the more cultured student, took the lead, 
while John, who lacked In scholastic ability and had 
much less education, was relied on to supply the 
anatomical data. John was painfully aware of his 
deficiencies in literary culture and Is said once to 
have replied to the disparaging remarks of an op- 
ponent: "He accuses me of not understanding the 
dead languages, but I could tell him that on the 
dead body which he never knew in any language liv- 
ing or dead." 

It was in this way that he was led Into unseemly 
encounters with the Munros, of Edinburgh, and with 
his late teacher. Pott. The same sort of dispute 
finally separated the two brothers, and they parted 
company after a very unseemly exhibition of jealousy 
and fraternal discord. 

After studying human anatomy for several years, 



258 WORDS, DEEDS AND MEN 

John Hunter became profoundly impressed with the 
need for much larger knowledge of comparative 
anatomy, but about this time ill health compelled a 
temporary change and so he went into the army as a 
staff surgeon. This was at the time when Europe 
was engaged in the sanguinary Seven Years' War, 
and so it happened that Hunter had ample oppor- 
tunity for studies and observations in military surgery 
— at the siege of Belleisle and later in the war in the 
Peninsula. Here he made many of those observa- 
tions on gunshot wounds which he published at vari- 
ous periods later and which helped to make him 
famous. 

He resumed his work in London in 1763, and here 
again he had to undergo a long trial of those quali- 
ties of passive fortitude and active perseverance un- 
der difficulties which were his prominent characteris- 
tics. His personal needs were small but his scientific 
requirements were large, and to these latter he de- 
voted every guinea which he could earn in his small 
but slowly growing practice. His own manners were 
so brusque, and he was so lacking in the refinement of 
many of his colleagues and competitors, that it took 
rare mental qualities to force him to the front, to 
which he nevertheless rapidly advanced. Bacon has 
said, "He that is only real had need of exceeding 
great parts of virtue, as the stone had need be rich 
that is set without foil," and this was never more true 
than in John Hunter's case. His leisure hours were 
never unemployed. He obtained the bodies of all 



WORDS, DEEDS AND MEN 259 

animals dying In the public collections in London 
and so began to form that enormous collection which 
became known later as the Hunterian Museum. As 
his means afforded it he built and added to his accom- 
modations and carried on those vast researches into 
animal anatomy and physiology to which the balance 
of his life was devoted. Although his practice grad- 
ually increased and he became in time the most fa- 
mous surgeon and consultant in London, he used, 
nevertheless, to spend three or four hours every morn- 
ing before breakfast in dissection of animals, and as 
much of the rest of the day as he could spare. Pu- 
pils and students who wished to consult him had to 
come early in the morning, often as early as four 
o'clock, in order to find him disengaged. He had 
that rare ability to do a maximum of work with a 
minimum of sleep which has been so conspicuous in 
the case of Virchow. Before he died. Hunter at- 
tained to a large competence, and his anatomical col- 
lection, consisting of some ten thousand preparations, 
made largely with his own hands, was purchased af- 
ter his death by the Government, for seventy-five 
thousand dollars, and presented to the College of 
Surgeons where it forms the chief part of the so- 
called Hunterian Museum. 

Hunter's principal claims to greatness obtain In 
this, that he not only brought the light of physiology 
to bear upon the practice of our art, but by his writ- 
ings and teachings and especially by his example led 
men to follow along the paths he cleared for them. 



26o WORDS, DEEDS AND MEN 

It is no small claim to glory to be known by such pu- 
pils as Hunter had. By these, by his colossal indus- 
try in building up his museum, and by his writings, 
he will ever be known as the most prominent figure 
in the medical history of Great Britain. 

The fifth man in this quintette of geniuses 
which I am presenting to you to-day was Francis 
Xavier Bichat, who was born in France in 177 1, 
and died in 1802. Altohugh he was thirty-one years 
old at his death, his career was so phenomenal, al- 
most meteoric, that it deserves to be held up as show- 
ing what one can do in the early period of his life, if 
he will but work. As one reads of his originality and 
talent one is led almost insensibly to compare them 
with those of some of the world's famous musicians 
who, also, have died in early manhood after giving 
to the world their immortal works, e. g., Schubert, 
Mozart and Mendelssohn. Bichat was the son of 
a physician and applied himself early to medical stud- 
ies in Nantes, Lyons, Montpellier and finally in 
Paris, where he became the pupil and trusted friend 
of Desault, then the greatest Parisian surgeon. When 
Desault died, in 1795, this young man began lectur- 
ing for him, at the age of twenty-four. He dis- 
played a wonderful, almost feverish scientific activ- 
ity, more particularly in the direction of general and 
pathological anatomy. He was the originator of the 
phrase which he made famous: "Take away some 
fevers and nervous troubles, and all else belongs In 
the domain of pathological anatomy." Coming upon 



WORDS, DEEDS AND MEN 261 

the stage shortly after Morgagni left it, he was able 
by his genius, his logical acumen and his graces of 
speech and manner, to give an attractiveness and im- 
portance to this subject which it had hitherto lacked. 

It was his great service to more clearly differentiate 
closely related diseased conditions and to insist upon 
a study of post-mortem appearances in connection 
with previously observed clinical phenomena. He 
also established the tendency of similar tissues to sim- 
ilar anatomical lesions. In fact our view of what 
we call general tissue systems we in reality owe to 
him, since without use of the microscope he dis- 
tinguished twenty-one kinds of tissue, which he stud- 
ied under the head of general anatomy, while he held 
that descriptive anatomy had to do with their various 
combinations. 

To Bischat was largely due the overthrow of purely 
speculative medicine because he placed facts far in 
advance of theories and ideas. Books he said are or 
should be merely ^'memoranda of facts." That he 
made many such memoranda will appear from the 
fact that before his untimely death he had published 
nine volumes of essays and treatises, nearly all bear- 
ing on the general subject of anatomy, normal and 
morbid. He also had not only his limitations but 
his faults. He strangely denied the applicability of 
so-called physical laws to body processes, he mini- 
mized the importance of therapeutics, and he sought 
to place the vitalistic system upon a realistic basis. 
Nevertheless he set an example not only for the 



1^2 WORDS, DEEDS AND MEN 

young men of France, but of all times and climes, 
which should be often held up before them. 

And so I have thus placed before you five bright 
and shining illustrations of what brains and applica- 
tion can accomplish, selected from different lands in 
order to show that medicine has no country, and 
from a previous century in order that you may the 
better realize how meagre was their environment in 
those days as compared with that which you enjoy. 
Perhaps you will say, "there were giants in those 
days." True, but the race has not entirely died out. 
While Spencer and Virchow live one may not call the 
race extinct, nor can the times which have produced 
such men as Helmholtz, DuBois-Reymond, Darwin, 
Huxley, Leidy or Marsh, fail to still produce an oc- 
casional worthy successor. 

But it is time now to draw this rather rambling 
discourse to an end. The effort has been partly to 
attract your attention to some of the side lights by 
which the vista of your futures may be the more 
pleasantly illumined, and partly, by placing before 
you brief accounts of the careers of some of your 
illustrious predecessors, to show that eminence in 
medical science inheres In no particular nationality 
nor race, neither comes it of heredity nor by request. 
Like salvation it is available to all who fulfill the 
prerequisites. It is a composite product of applica- 
tion, direction, fervor In study, logical powers of 
mind, honesty of purpose, capability of observation, 
alertness to Improve opportunities, all combined with 



WORDS, DEEDS AND MEN 263 

that somewhat rare gift of tact, which last constitutes 
the so-called personal equation by which many hu- 
manitarian problems are solved. Study nature for 
facts; study lives of great men for inspiration how to 
use them. 

"Were a star quenched on high 

For ages would its light. 
Still traveling downward from the sky. 

Shine on our mortal sight. 
So when a great man dies 

For years beyond our ken. 
The light he leaves behind him lies 

Upon the paths of men." 

If then you regulate your mental habits by such a 
code other habits will of necessity fall into the 
proper line. The only other admonition I would 
give you in parting is summed up in these beautiful 
lines of our own Bryant: 

"So live that when thy summons comes to join 
The innumerable caravan which moves 
To that mysterious realm where each shall take 
His chamber in the silent halls of death, 
Thou go not like the quarry slave at night. 
Scourged to his dungeon, but sustained and soothed 
By an unfaltering trust, approach thy grave 
Like one who wraps the drapery of his couch 
About him and lies down to pleasant dreams." 



264 WORDS, DEEDS AND MEN 

That the sentiment is not new, however, will ap- 
pear in this other and ancient version which Sir 
William Jones has thus rendered from the Persian : 

'*0n parent knees, a naked newborn child, 
Weeping thou satst while all around thee smiled, 
So live that, sinking to thy last long sleep, 
Calm mayst thou smile while all around thee weep.** 



THE CAREER OF THE ARMY SURGEON^ 

THE experience of listening to a so-called 
Commencement Address under these pe- 
culiar circumstances is doubtless as novel 
to you as is to me its preparation. So 
different is this occasion from that usually spoken 
of as Commencement Day, that it taxed my judg- 
ment as much as it did my ability to — as it were — 
"meet the indication," and to try to say the appro- 
priate thing. It behooves me to remember that this 
is in effect not an address to a class of students just 
entering a learned profession, but an effort on the 
part of one on the borderland of experiences gath- 
ered from a civil surgeon's work, yet enjoying a 
quasi military title, with strong ties and leanings — 
to some extent inherited — toward the course of the 
army surgeon and the fascinations of the soldier's 
life. Self-evident it is that you need no admonition 
which I could give, for the very fact of your presence 
here indicates that your selection by your superior 
officers stamps their approval of your ability as well 
as your character. 

Time has wrought vast changes in the personnel 
of the army medical corps, as in every other branch 



*Commencement Address at the Army Medical School, Wash- 
ington, D. C, May 29, 1909. — From "The Military Surgeon," 
July, 1909. 

265 



266 CAREER OF ARMY SURGEON 

of the service. From the days of Xenophon, with 
his selection of the best material afforded, to the 
dark middle ages with practically no provision, then 
to the later centuries with their menial barbers and 
barber surgeons, and then the very gradually Im- 
proved conditions which bettered the service, down 
to the present time, when the best Is none too good, 
there has been that same evolution which has charac- 
terized all the rest of mankind's surroundings and 
man's realization of his public and private duties. 
From the days when the first duty of the so-called 
army surgeon was to minister to his commanding 
general, and when the private soldier received but 
the scantiest If any attention, we have arrived at that 
time when the good health of the entire army Is the 
aim and pride of the medical corps, and when public 
opinion demands for every enlisted man a degree of 
watchful care greater than many parents bestow 
upon their own families. The line officer of to-day 
can no longer afford to disregard the advice of his 
medical officers, and camp sanitation is now of even 
greater Importance than operative technique, be- 
cause preventable sickness and the Incapacity caused 
by disease are recognized as far more to be dreaded 
than the bullets of the enemy. 

Public estimate of our duties to the sick and 
wounded has varied largely during different epochs. 
Thus Homer makes Nestor say : 

"A surgeon skilled our wounds to heal. 
Is more than armies to the public weal." 



CAREER OF ARMY SURGEON 267 

Homer also lauded the services of the two sons 
of Aesculapius, whom he deified as the grandest of 
heroes and the wisest of surgeons, and thus wrote 
of them at the siege of Troy, twelve hundred years 
before the birth of Christ : 

"Of two great surgeons, Podallrlus stands 
This hour surrounded by the Trojan bands, 
And great Machaon, wounded, in his tent 
Now wants the succor which so oft he lent." 

Again he thus describes an operation : 

"Patroclus cut the forky steel away; 
While In his hand a bitter root he pressed. 
The wound he washed and styptic juice infused; 
The closing flesh that instant ceased to glow. 
The wound to torture, and the blood to flow." 

Contrast the tender mercies thus described with 
an Incident occurring during one of the exciting ex- 
periences of Ambrolse Pare, who one day, during a 
battle, saw three desperately wounded soldiers 
placed with their backs against a wall. An old cam- 
paigner inquired, "Can those fellows get well?" 
"No," answered Ambrolse. Thereupon the old 
campaigner went up to them and cut all their throats, 
"sweetly and without wrath." Note, If you will, the 
expression, "sweetly and without wrath," since It 
Implies a primitive form of humanity in providing 



268 CAREER OF ARMY SURGEON 

euthanasia for the hopelessly wounded. 

While it has been from time immemorial the cus- 
tom to attach surgeons to various armies, some idea 
of prevailing notions of antiquity may be gained 
from the statement that Xenophon had but eight 
field surgeons with his 10,000 troops. In his army 
the sick and wounded were cared for in adjoining 
villages, or, when on the march, were carried in the 
rear of the troops, being cared for by women from 
"the baggage." Whether these women were the 
"vivandieres" of those days I do not quite make out, 
nevertheless they must have been much the same 
thing. 

In the days of Rome's greatest glory each cohort 
of 420 men had four surgeons, while each legion of 
ten cohorts had one legionary physician. In the 
navy there was also one physician to each trireme; 
nevertheless the wounded on land or sea received 
scant attention, although it is interesting to read that 
each soldier carried with him the most necessary 
bandages ready for use, an emergency packet sup- 
posed to be quite modern. 

A few hundred years later, in the Eastern Empire, 
the Emperor Maurice ordered that throughout 
every division of from two hundred to four hundred 
cavalry eight or ten of the strongest men be selected, 
in order to bring to the rear those who were severely 
wounded, to supply them with water, and to collect 
the weap( ; lying upon the field. These mounted 
cavalryme -eceived a small reward for each person 



CAREER OF ARMY SURGEON 269 

rescued. Three hundred years later this arrange- 
ment was continued in operation by Leo VI. Wher- 
ever it was possible the sick and wounded soldiers 
were cared for by monks or by sisters, in the numer- 
ous hospices and institutions which abounded 
throughout the East, and although the care was 
often of the worst the efforts made were in the right 
direction. Holy oil, laying on of hands, supplica- 
tion, and the use of holy relics constituted a large 
part of the treatment in vogue; nevertheless these 
remedies were not quite so injurious as some of the 
other and more disgusting ones whose use prevailed 
in those days. 

Without doubt the two army surgeons who dur- 
ing the last 500 years achieved more fame than any 
of their colleagues were Ambroise Pare, and Baron 
Larrey. Such commanding figures were they, not 
only in their professional work, but in the general 
influence which they wielded alike upon sovereign 
and common soldier, that they will ever be regarded 
as among the most memorable characters of common 
history. Pare died in 1590, Larrey in 1842. Each 
was passed along from one ruler or commander to 
his successor, and each was regarded as about the 
most priceless legacy which could be thus trans- 
mitted. 

Parens name has always been most conspicuously 
mentioned in connection with the history 01 the intro- 
duction of the ligature as a substitute fo he cautery 
iron or boiling oil, previously in use f rvthe check- 



270 CAREER OF ARMY SURGEON 

ing of hemorrhage, and for his teaching concerning 
the nature of gun-shot wounds, which had been pre- 
viously and universally considered as necessarily 
poisoned wounds; but his new practice and his new 
views in these respects were but a small part of the 
general services which he rendered. It is not worth 
while to try to even epitomize here to-day the history 
of the ligature; though while its introduction has 
been widely credited to Pare, you must not forget 
that it was in use many centuries before his time, 
and was frequently mentioned by the early writers. 
What Pare really did was, first, to abolish a barbar- 
ous and unscientific method of dealing with hemorr- 
hage, and then to re-introduce or promote the em- 
ployment of the ligature as a far preferable substi- 
tute, more humane, more clean, and more desirable. 
And so rather than do scant justice by incomplete 
reference to Pare's actual contributions to knowl- 
edge I prefer rather to speak of the other side of 
this great man's character, and to remind you of 
some of the many ways by which he secured such 
marvellous influence over those around him, and 
made his remarkable personality of the greatest use. 
As he passed through one campaign after another 
his reputation became more and more firmly estab- 
lished, and inspired surgeons the world over with 
the desire to visit him. In almost his every act his 
sagacity was conspicuously displayed, while, when- 
ever they were called for, his personal courage and 
absolute lack of fear were equally apparent. 



CAREER OF ARMY SURGEON 271 

Deprived of the benefits of early and liberal train- 
ing he probably, on that very account, developed his 
power of thought, his memory and his analytical 
powers all the more keenly, inasmuch as these were 
made to take the place of what he might have learn- 
ed from books. 

The following anecdote will serve to illustrate, for 
instance, the general esteem in which he was held. In 
October, 1552, the army of Charles V. was besieg- 
ing the city of Metz, and Charles himself came to 
take command. In the beleaguered city were gath- 
ered the nobility and the bluest blood of France, 
while at the head of the defending forces was the 
Duke of Guise. The imprisoned soldiers and ci- 
vilians suffered alike from the onslaughts of the 
enemy, the rigors of a frightful winter, the lack of 
food, and the presence of disease. The Duke had 
established two hospitals for the soldiers, which he 
put in charge of the barber surgeons of the city, and 
furnished them with money with which to procure 
supplies, but owing to the wretched incompetence of 
these same barber surgeons nearly all the wounded 
perished, and the horrible suspicion arose that the 
soldiers were being poisoned. The Duke sent word 
to the King of France that the place could hold out 
for ten months, but that they needed more medicines. 
The King then sent for Pare, gave him money, or- 
dered him to take all the medicines and other sup- 
plies he deemed necessary, and further aided him by 
bribing an Italian captain to permit the celebrated 



272 CAREER OF ARMY SURGEON 

surgeon, in some way, to enter the besieged city. Brav- 
ing all dangers, and being finally successful, Pare en- 
tered Metz two months later. He had at this time 
been with the armies for at least sixteen years, and 
was known by sight to officers and soldiers alike. On 
the day after his arrival the Duke of Guise dramatic- 
ally presented him, on the ramparts, to all his officers, 
who embraced him, and hailed him with loud ac- 
claim, while by the soldiers he was received with 
shouts of triumph. "We shall not die," they ex- 
claimed, "even though wounded, for Pare is among 
us." The effect of this great surgeon's appearance 
was to give new vigor to the defenders, and to it was 
due the fact that the city was saved. 

In his time Pare met with success such as to-day 
would be pronounced most extraordinary. He In- 
spired the wounded with utmost confidence, and dis- 
played, always and everywhere, remarkable firmness. 
Not the least notable feature in his personal history 
is it that he should have so long retained favor at 
court with such outspoken independence of character. 

Equally reputable among army surgeons of the 
past, and one of the most commanding figures in his- 
tory, medical or other, was Baron Larrey. For more 
than fifty years he was an army surgeon, and for a 
great part of that period he stood really closer to 
Napoleon than almost any of the men whom the lat- 
ter attached to his person by one or another of those 
traits that made him such a remarkable figure. That 
one of the greatest murderers and one of the great- 



CAREER OF ARMY SURGEON 273 

est life-savers of all time should have been so closely 
drawn to each other, constitutes one of the most note- 
worthy incidents of history. Alike in many respects, 
so unlike in so many others, it is one of the most cred- 
itable features of Napoleon's career that he should 
have accorded to Larrey that recognition which he 
early gave and never withdrew. Never was such 
tribute more signally deserved nor worthily bestowed. 
Though he passed through twenty-six campaigns, 
"from Syria to Portugal, and from Moscow to Mad- 
rid," and though his wonderful courage never failed 
him under the most trying surroundings of carnage 
and conflict, it may still be questioned whether it did 
not take a higher degree or order of courage to face 
Napoleon in his tent, or tell him plain truths in the 
Tuilleries. 

The history of campaigning affords innumerable 
incidents illustrating heroism under fire, or equally 
trying circumstances, and it is difficult and perhaps 
unjust to single out a few for individual mention. 
Bravery is confined to no epoch and to no race; it is 
simply a God-given trait, not by any means pos- 
sessed by all men. Take, for instance, one incident 
in the career of Larrey. During the landing of the 
English on the shores of Aboukir Bay, when General 
Silly had his knee crushed by a bullet, Larrey appreci- 
ated that immediate amputation was imperative, 
and gaining consent performed it, in three minutes, 
under the enemy's fire. Just as he was finished the 
English cavalry charged upon them; in his own 



274 CAREER OF ARMY SURGEON 

words, "I had scarcely time," he said, "to take the 
wounded officer on my shoulders and carry him rap- 
idly toward our army which was in full retreat. I 
spied a series of ditches across which I passed, while 
the enemy had to go around by a more circuitous 
route. Thus I had the happiness to reach the rear 
guard of our army before this corps of dragoons 
reached us. I arrived at Alexandria with this honor- 
able, wounded officer, where I completed his cure." 

Perhaps under no circumstance did Larrey's cour- 
age and zeal show to better advantage than in the 
awful retreat from Moscow. For example, after 
the terrible battle of Borodino, Larrey made two hun- 
dred amputations, practically with his own hands, 
where there were neither couches nor coverings of 
any kind, when the cold was so intense that the instru- 
ments often fell from the benumbed fingers of the sur- 
geons, and when food consisted of horse flesh, cabbage 
stalks and a few potatoes. And all this while the 
savage Cossacks were hovering around equally ready 
to kill both surgeons and patients. Soon after came 
the passage of the Beresina, with its attendant hor- 
rors. General Zayonchek, over sixty years of age, 
had his knee crushed, and was in need of immediate 
amputation, which Larrey performed under the ene- 
my's fire, amid the falling snow, with no shelter ex- 
cept a cloak, held by two officers over the patient 
while the operation was being performed. The Gen- 
eral recovered, and died fourteen years later as Vice- 
roy of Poland. 



CAREER OF ARMY SURGEON 275 

It was after this passage of the Beresina by the 
Imperial Guard that it was discovered that all the 
requisites for the sick and wounded had been left be- 
hind and on the other side. Larrey at once recrossed 
the river, and found himself amidst a furious, strug- 
gling crowd, in danger of being crushed to death, 
when suddenly the soldiers recognized him. Imme- 
diately they took him up in their arms, crossed the 
river with him, crying, "let us save him who saved 
us," and forgot their own safety in their regard for 
him whose merciful kindness they had so often ex- 
perienced. 

Another incident in Larrey's career: Ever faith- 
ful to Napoleon, his adored master, through victory 
or reverse, Larrey stood one night with a small group 
of medical men gazing over the field of Waterloo, 
and upon the wounded and dying who lay groaning 
around him. Suddenly they were charged by a squa- 
dron of Prussian Lancers, at whom Larrey fired his 
pistols and galloped away, but was overtaken by the 
Prussians, who shot his horse, sabred him, and left 
him for dead. After a while he recovered his senses, 
and tried to make his way across lots to France, but 
was again captured by another detachment of cavalry, 
who robbed him of everything, and then took him to 
headquarters, where it was ordered that he be shot. 
Think of such a fate for one who had saved so many 
lives ! But the order would have been carried out 
promptly had not one of the Prussian surgeons recog- 
nized Larrey, having attended his lectures several 



276 CAREER OF ARMY SURGEON 

years previously. Accordingly he was brought before 
Biilow, and finally before Marshall Bliicher, whose 
son had been wounded and captured by the French 
in the Austrian Campaign, and whose life had been 
saved by Larrey's exertions. You may imagine that 
it did not take long to reverse that order for execu- 
tion. 

Praise from Napoleon was most rare, but of Lar- 
rey he made this remark in his will, along with a be- 
quest of 100,000 francs, "He is the most virtuous 
man I have ever known." 

Let us mention a few other instances. For ex- 
ample. Surgeon Thomson, who during the Crimean 
war, after the battle of the Alma, volunteered, with 
his servant, John McGrath, to remain behind on the 
open, unsheltered field, with five hundred Rus- 
sians so wounded as to be disabled or even at 
at the point of death. For three days and 
nights these two Englishmen remained prac- 
tically alone upon that field, covered only with dead 
and dying, among foreign foes, none of them able to 
help themselves, or even to speak in a language that 
could be understood. 

At the battle of Inkerman Assistant Surgeon 
Wolesley had established his field hospital in that aw- 
ful place of slaughter, the Sandbag Battery. When 
its defenders were reduced to 150 men, and were 
forced to leave it, most of them retreated in one di- 
rection to find, only thirty paces away, a Russian 
battalion blocking their path. There was not one 



CAREER OF ARMY SURGEON 277 

competent officer left, so this surgeon took command. 
Seizing a bayonet because he had no sword, he spoke 
hurriedly to the men, and explained that their next 
fight was not merely for victory, but for their own 
lives ; then he led them in a charge that tore so fierce- 
ly through the Russian detachment that but half of 
them reached the other side alive. 

During the South African campaign the papers 
recorded (but how few read of it?) the fate of Sur- 
geon Landon, who was shot through the spine while 
ministering to the wounded on Majuba Hill. Para- 
lyzed below the waist, he had himself propped up, 
and continued his work as best he could until his 
strength failed, when he said, "I am dying; do what 
you can for the wounded." 

It may be of interest to devote here a few minutes 
to the consideration of conditions obtaining at the 
time of our Revolutionary War. In 1776 the barber 
surgeon still had a place in the armies of the world 
and was even then regarded as scarcely more than a 
menial. Never was he accorded the respect or the 
honors of a gentleman, nor was he allowed to carry 
a sword. On the other hand, he was subjected to cor- 
poral punishment, and could be caned by his colonel, 
or almost anyone else, whenever such an act was pro- 
voked. It may be said that the English troops were 
somewhat better equipped than were the hired Hes- 
sians, while the French, who came to our aid, brought 
with them some far better men, who were in many 
respects a revelation during our revolution and an 



278 CAREER OF ARMY SURGEON 

inspiration to our own so-called surgeons. But our 
colonial and general governments dealt very stingily 
with our army medical department, and their pro- 
fessional equipments were of the most meagre; in 
fact, the history of surgery of those days, either in 
the army or in civil life, is practically the history 
of a few prominent individuals, most of whom had 
spent the time and money required for study abroad, 
and who had come home bringing back with them 
the best of their day, such as it was. For instance, 
there were the Warren brothers, in Boston, of whom 
the elder, Joseph, started Paul Revere on his famous 
ride. He was elected President of the Provincial 
Congress, and just before the battle of Bunker Hill 
was made Major General of the Continental forces, 
a position which he preferred to that of Physician 
General, which he had been offered. During the bat- 
tle he fought with a musket, as though a private, and 
was shot down just as the conflict ended. The young- 
er brother, John, lived to achieve fame and reputa- 
tion, and transmitted them to his posterity. 

During the war some colonial regiments even 
came into camp without any surgeon, or the slightest 
provision for disease or injury. In 1776 Congress 
ordered that there should be one surgeon and five 
assistants to each 5,000 enlisted men, the former 
being paid $1.66 per day, the latter $1 a day. Im- 
agine the attention that could be bestowed upon 
5,000 soldiers by six men whose services were thus 
compensated. Camp hygiene, hospital corps, and 



CAREER OF ARMY SURGEON 279 

ambulance service were undreamed of; nevertheless 
John Warren, then only twenty-three years of age, 
accomphshed a great deal in building up a medical 
corps, while as much more was done by Benjamin 
Church, of Boston, who was styled Director General 
and Chief Physician, and who was paid $4 a day. 
Unfortunately Church was detected in traitorous 
correspondence with the enemy, was court-martialed, 
imprisoned for a year, then allowed to leave the 
country, and was probably lost at sea. He was suc- 
ceeded by John Morgan, of Philadelphia, who had 
to fight the politicians as well as the foreign enemy 
and, failing to satisfy them, was dismissed from the 
service, though acquitted from all blame. Thus you 
see that even in those days the politicians made it 
hard to secure adequate and proper care for our sick 
and wounded soldiers. Everywhere at that time 
were unrest, excitement, and suspicion, and their 
demoralizing effects showed in every department of 
military as of civil government. After Morgan came 
Shippen, who held office from 1777 to 1781, under 
whose guidance affairs in the medical department 
improved very much. Smallpox had been perhaps 
the greatest scourge of the soldiers, as well as of the 
people in general, but this was kept in subjection by 
the practice of inoculation, which had been generally 
accepted in this country by nearly all men from 
Washington down. 

A word or two must also be said about that re- 
markable man, Benjamin Rush, with his many-sided, 



28o CAREER OF ARMY SURGEON 

versatile, erratic, obstinate and querulous character, 
who nevertheless constituted in his day the most 
prominent figure in the profession; who served two 
years in Congress; who signed the Declaration of 
Independence; and who, in the same year, got his 
first army medical experience. It was perhaps not 
strange that, with his pecuHar temperament, he fail- 
ed to come under the influence of Washington's pe- 
culiar personal magnetism, and that their personal 
relations were not at all to Rush's credit, since he 
endeavored in many ways to belittle his Commander- 
in-Chief, and suffered therefor a rather ignominious 
exposure. 

The temptation is always to place most stress 
upon accounts of heroism which happens to be most 
publicly performed. While this is not unnatural it 
is often an injustice, since an act of courage may be 
performed in the lime-light of publicity, with a re- 
gard for notoriety, that would be lost were it done in 
private. It perhaps is not kind to think that anyone 
would ever be more courageous in public than in 
private, and yet it is to be feared that human nature 
is not always free from temptation of this kind. But 
the real silent heroes of military or civil medical life 
are those who engage in duties which nevertheless 
have even more of danger about them than spectacu- 
lar performances upon the battle field. Take for 
instance, the work done by Major Reed and Dr. 
Carroll, who devoted themselves for months to the 
study of yellow fever. Many a man will stand upon 



CAREER OF ARMY SURGEON 281 

the field of battle permitting himself to be fired upon, 
but how many will deliberately submit to being bitten 
by insects believed to be carriers of the germs of yel- 
low fever. Dr. Carroll had this quiet kind of brav- 
ery, and allowed himself to be bitten by a mosquito 
that twelve days previously had filled himself with 
the blood of a yellow fever patient, and in conse- 
quence suffered from a severe attack, barely escaping 
with his life. Dr. Lazear permitted the same ex- 
periment upon himself, but was not at that time in- 
fected ; but some days later while in the yellow fever 
ward he was bitten by a mosquito, made careful note 
of the fact, acquired the disease in its most hideous 
form, and died a martyr to science, as true a hero as 
ever died upon fortress or man-of-war. Others, too, 
willingly exposed themselves, but there was at that 
time no other fatality to record. But realizing the 
value of the service rendered, the indisputable proof 
of the nature of the disease, and the method by 
which it is carried, the value of the demonstration 
becomes inestimable, since a true prophylaxis was 
demonstrated, and a means furnished of ridding the 
community of this fearful pestilence. Moreover, it 
was shown how unnecessary it is to destroy valuable 
property, it being only necessary to kill the mosqui- 
toes, and do away with their breeding places. Major 
Reed died a few years after he had led in this fight 
against the dread disease, but no monument, or other 
testimonial which can be erected to the memory of 
Reed, Carroll and Lazear can adequately express 



282 CAREER OF ARMY SURGEON 

the value of the service which they have rendered to 
the world. 

"Peace hath her victories no less than war." This 
epigram is as true of the conflicts in which the medi- 
cal profession engage as of any other. This same 
sentiment has been put in other words. It is said, 
"That peace hath higher tests of manhood th i 
battle ever knew." For instance, in New York there 
is a simple tablet commemorating, in loving remem- 
brance, the death of eighteen young physicians who, 
one after another, attended a ship load of emigrants 
sick of typhus fever on Quarantine Island. They 
fought their good fight and were buried without 
martial music, adding eighteen names to the innumer- 
able list of victims who have fought the silent battle 
of dealing with disease, public gainers only in this, 
that someone has been thoughtful enough to record 
their names in this semi-public fashion. 

Taken again the case of Dr. Franz Muller, of 
Vienna, who contracted the bubonic plague while 
working in the laboratory with its germs. Just so 
soon as he realized that he himself was infected he 
locked himself in an isolated room, and pasted upon 
the window pane a sheet of paper containing this 
message, "I am suffering from plague. Do not send 
a doctor to me, as in any event my end will come in 
four or five days." He refused to admit those who 
were anxious to do for him, wrote a letter to his 
parents which he placed against the window, so that 
it could be copied from the outside, then burned the 



CAREER OF ARMY SURGEON 283 

original, fearing that if sent through the mail it 
might carry the elusive germ. Was not this equal 
to any instance of valor under the excitement or the 
stress of battle and cannonade ? Could anyone more 
worthily win a Victorian Cross, or any other emblem 
of courage and heroism? 

Many of you have been in, or will go to Havana. 
It will be worth your while to make a pilgrimage to 
the cemetery there, where were buried sixteen young 
medical students who lost their lives under peculiar 
circumstances, which afford as well an Illustration of 
Spanish tyranny and injustice. In 1871 one of the 
professors in the medical school died, and was fol- 
lowed to his grave by the students whom he had 
taught, and who loved him. Unfortunately they 
committed an indiscretion by scribbling with a pencil 
in a public place some criticism on the government; 
in consequence they were reported, arrested and 
court-martialed. The written paragraphs were evi- 
dence sufficient, and the Governor General ordered 
the ranks of students to be decimated. There were 
160 students all told, and in accordance with this 
sentence sixteen of them were next day shot without 
any further ceremony. Of these the youngest was 
not quite sixteen years old, and his father offered his 
entire fortune for his life, but without avail. Later 
the citizens of Havana erected a monument of white 
marble, at no small cost, to commemorate this sacri- 
fice. 

There comes over me, as I prepare these words to 



284 CAREER OF ARMY SURGEON 

read to you, a feeling of their inadequacy, and of 
lack of personal justice to many of my auditors. 
Brought up in civil life, with but a smattering of mili- 
tary training, I am rehearsing incidents of which you 
may read as easily as I, while at the same time I do 
not forget that from the lives of many of my audi- 
tors there might be drawn just as many illustrations 
of courage, fortitude, endurance and personal valor 
as any that the Surgeon GeneraPs library records. 
Unfortunately I am not familiar with them. They 
are, happily in one respect, too numerous to mention, 
and again are not yet public property, because mod- 
esty is ever the accompaniment of these other traits 
which we all admire so much. Hence, gentlemen, if 
I seem to you to disregard or forget many an inci- 
dent in your lives or the careers of your friends, 
ascribe it to my ignorance rather than to my intent, 
and to the fact that I have never seen a battle, and 
that my fights with disease have not been fought in 
camps, but within the walls of the quiet sick room 
or hospital ward. Nevertheless I am never happier 
than when I can try to compel a wider public recog- 
nition of what you are constantly doing and of your 
valorous deeds. 

Next to those general improvements in the service 
which have come about through natural causes, and 
as results of a better appreciation of its needs, and 
of a generally improved state of the profession, 
nothing has come from outside during the past fifty 
years which has been so helpful and advantageous 



CAREER OF ARMY SURGEON 285 

as the support afforded by the Red Cross, and the 
introduction of skilled nurses; in fact the greatest 
help which the medical service of the army and navy 
can enjoy is that which comes from this volunteer 
and outside source. By the way, I wonder how 
many of you recall, or are familiar with, the begin- 
nings of the Red Cross movement? So important 
has it become that its history should be well known 
to all. In June, 1859, was fought the bloody battle 
of Solferino, at the conclusion of which some 36,000 
French, Sardinian and Austrian soldiers lay dead or 
dying on the field. The medical corps was, of course, 
absolutely inadequate to the work thrown upon them, 
and as usual thousands of wounded men had to care 
for themselves as best they could. A Swiss traveler, 
Henri Dunant, viewing the scenes, and being pro- 
foundly impressed by them, not only assisted in the 
work of relief, but wrote a book entitled, "A Souv- 
enir of Solferino," in which he urged more humane, 
widespread and speedy aid to the wounded. M. 
Moynier, president of the Society of Public Utility, 
of Geneva, a man of independent means; Dr. Appia, 
a wise physician, and M. Ador, an eminent lawyer of 
Geneva, also became interested in the movement. 
The attention of the General of the Swiss Army was 
called to it and his co-operation enlisted. In this 
way came about, in 1863, the formation of a perma- 
nent society for the relief of wounded soldiers. At 
a meeting held in October in the same year men from 
many countries joined in discussing the subject, and 



286 CAREER OF ARMY SURGEON 

an International conference was held, which resulted 
in calling an international convention, to be held at 
Geneva in the autumn of 1864. 

Such was the beginning of the Red Cross move- 
ment, which has now extended all over the world, and 
has afforded an opportunity for all races, creeds and 
nationalities to care for those who are made victims 
of war or pestilence, or who suffer from any other 
great disaster with which private charity is unable to 
cope. It marks a step in the evolution of mankind, 
and has now achieved such nniversal recogntlon that 
national governments and individual potentates are 
glad to join hands in the great work. 

A more concrete application of the same idea has 
been the comparatively recent formation of ambu- 
lance corps and later of nursing bureaus, within our 
own service, and the employment of trained nurses. 
This has not been in all respects an easy matter to 
bring about, nevertheless it has redounded to the 
credit and to the welfare of all concerned. Never at 
any time were the sick and injured, either in private 
or in military practice, so well cared for as now, and 
America should lead the world to-day, as ever, In the 
adequacy of its provisions and the perfection of Its 
methods. In private this is notably the case In ordin- 
ary hospital work, as seen by all travelers, upon the 
continent and in Great Britain, who take pains to 
make comparisons with the way in which things are 
done there and in our own country. Although Flor- 
ence Nightingale Immortalized herself by showing 



CAREER OF ARMY SURGEON 287 

what woman could do on the battle field and in mili- 
tary camps, it has remained for Americans to im- 
prove upon the lessons which she taught, while at the 
same time revering her for her wonderful devotion to 
her self-imposed duty and her enthusiasm. In its 
performance the lessons of the Crimean and the 
Civil War, for instance, have left their impressions 
upon history in such a way as may never be erased, 
and certainly no one was ever more entitled to the 
designation of "angel of the sick room" than was 
Miss Nightingale. 

Wars of conquest bring about curious results and 
in unexpected ways. While greed, lust and fanatic- 
ism have been the three great impelling and underly- 
ing motives for most of the wars which man thrusts 
upon his fellow-men, one far nobler motive has been 
the occasional and the only just cause of strife, name- 
ly, the desire for liberty; still this is always second- 
ary and the product of some other man's or people's 
greed. As only by the cataclysms of the natural world 
has it been prepared for man's habitation, so by some 
wars have come benefits unforeseen, with an ameliora- 
tion of the condition of mankind in general, which 
could not have been secured by any less drastic meas- 
ures. It is, however, a sad commentary on man's 
intelligence that most honor is paid to those who have 
taken the most lives rather than to those who have 
saved them. No school boy in the remotest districts 
but is brought up with some trifling knowledge of the 
world's heroes, so-called, though they were in reality 



288 CAREER OF ARMY SURGEON 

the world's wholesale murderers. Yet you may find 
many persons, credited with higher education, who 
are still densely ignorant of the benefits conferred by 
those two greatest discoveries in the world's history 
(both of Anglo-Saxon origin), anaethesia and anti- 
sepsis, who will talk entertainingly and at length of 
Darius, Caesar, Hannibal and the more modern mili- 
tary lights, yet who never heard of Morton nor of 
Lister. Yet if to-day you inquire what is doing in 
the various parliaments of the world you learn that 
the talk is ever of more numerous and more powerful 
engines of destruction, and that those in power have 
no time to devote to improvements in the army or 
navy medical service, and that it is even now impos- 
sible to secure anything like adequate attention to our 
needs in this direction. 

Means of taking human life must be constantly at 
hand; means of saving it are of small importance un- 
til the emergency has arisen ; and then the blame for 
inadequate provision of both means and men falls not 
where it belongs, on the politicians who would not 
look ahead, but upon the administration of the med- 
ical department, who work to the point of despera- 
tion and despair in times of peace, who keep per- 
petual vigil, with scant recognition of the sacredness 
of their purpose, and scant aid in its accomplishment. 

Are the lessons of the South African, the Spanish- 
American and the Russo-Japanese wars to be forgot- 
ten almost before they have been recited? Are we 
prepared to-day to give adequate care and attention 



CAREER OF ARMY SURGEON 289 

to our soldiers and sailors were war in sight? You 
well know that we are not; every military or naval 
surgeon knows we are not; the medical profession 
generally knows it ; and our legislators have been told 
it until we are tired of repeating it. Yet, what is the 
result ? The same indifference on their part, the same 
ignorance of what it all means; and on the part of 
the public the same blindness and fatuous confidence 
that "everything is all right." 

For instance, if an adequate medical service is to 
be built up for war there should be one officer to 
every 100 of enlisted men. Estimating that an army 
of at least 400,000 men would be required were we 
engaged with a first-class power — and what other 
would dare to engage with us? — this means 4,000 
army surgeons. Of these at least one-fourth should 
be regular and experienced medical officers. In oth- 
er words, there should be for such an army at least 
1,000 medical officers in the regular service, and also 
at least 3,000 volunteer surgeons, professionally and 
physically equipped for such work. Should anyone 
object that this exceeds all the provisions of time 
past, the reply is ready and all sufficient, namely, that 
in time past all such provisions have been utterly in- 
adequate; that the conditions of modern warfare 
have undergone an entire change, that a sick, wound- 
ed or disabled man is an encumbrance, and that it 
behooves us to prevent sickness, and to cure the dis- 
abled man as quickly as possible. Furthermore, ad- 
vances in medicine and surgery have been so great 



290 CAREER OF ARMY SURGEON 

that far more is now expected of the medical corps 
than ever before, and it is a duty which we owe to 
those who incur the dangers of fighting for us that 
we should care for them. We are, therefore, under 
the very highest moral obligation to give them our 
best, and enough of it. It must be a small induce- 
ment that we offer to men to fight our battles if we 
permit them to feel that they are not objects of our 
solicitude when sick or wounded. 

There is another feature which we cannot disre- 
gard. So long as army regulations require that a 
man educated in advanced science spend much of his 
valuable time in acting as bookkeeper or clerk, there 
will be less inducement to enter the service, and it 
will consequently not attract men of highest pro- 
ficiency. That which is required of you is compli- 
cated and exacting. You must be good bookkeepers, 
good sanitarians, and equally good surgeons, physi- 
cians and even obstetricians. Above all, you are ex- 
pected to be able to keep all the men under your 
supervision ready for the "firing line" at a moment's 
notice. You have received the highest compliment 
which the State can pay when you have been ad- 
judged versatile and competent enough to fill all 
these roles and do all these things. 

Moreover, as you gain promotion other things 
will be expected of you, even, I hope, the filling of 
the chairs in this modem Military Medical School. 
It is in a way the West Point of the medical corps, 
and it would seem as though there should not be the 



CAREER OF ARMY SURGEON 291 

slightest difficulty In replenishing vacancies in its 
faculty by detail from your ranks. The collections 
and the literary labors of your corps constitute to- 
day treasures exceeded in value by but few if any in 
this, the Nation's Capital. The library, the museum 
and the archives of the medical department have 
been models from which all the nations of the earth 
have copied. 

In this connection there occurs to me, by way of 
contrast, the story of a French surgeon's experiences 
when he undertook to teach anatomy in a conquered 
and reconstructed country. 

After the French occupation of Egypt, Mehemet 
All took It Into his head to introduce European civil- 
ization into Africa, and imported all sorts of artists, 
scientists and medical men, among them a practition- 
er of Marseilles, a true Bohemian In the modern ac- 
ceptance of the expression, who presented himself 
In most seedy apparel, saying, "I am a doctor of 
medicine, with plenty of courage, but no clothes; I 
want to try my fortune." This man was Dr. Clot, 
who rapidly became a favorite of the Viceroy. He 
soon learned Arabic so as to speak it fluently, and in 
six months not only received an army commission, 
and became a Bey, but took the chair of anatomy in 
the newly organized school of medicine. Conditions 
were all against him. Mussulman fanaticism and 
the prohibitions of the Koran opposed all anatomical 
pursuits, and so soon as he proposed a dissection 
there was a general explosion. By Mohammedan 



292 CAREER OF ARMY SURGEON 

ceremonial one who even touches a dead body Is 
thereby rendered "unclean" for seven days. The 
Ulemas, the Muftis, and all of the other fanatics, 
demanded of the Viceroy the closure of the school, 
and declared dissection a sacrilegious profanation. 
Mehemet refused this, and ordered Clot Bey to com- 
mence his demonstrations. Then one day happened 
the following incident: The professor, scalpel in 
hand, standing alongside the cadaver, began to open 
the thorax, when one of the students, either from 
sheer fanaticism, or more bold than the others, 
jumped upon him and stabbed him with a poignard. 
The blade slid over the ribs, and Clot Bey, perceiv- 
ing that he was not seriously hurt, applied a piece of 
plaster to the wound, observing as he did so, *'We 
were speaking of the disposition of the sternum and 
the ribs, and I now can illustrate to you why a blow 
directed from above has so little chance of pene- 
trating the cavity of the thorax." He continued his 
lectures, and turned out some skilful practitioners. 
He became an officer of almost every order In the 
world, and acquired more than sixty decorations, al- 
though he never wore but one, the red rosette of his 
own country. {Med. Times and Gazette, Septem- 
ber 19, 1868.) 

While just such an experience may never be dupli- 
cated again, the Philippines, or some other country 
yet to fall under our rule, may afford an opportunity 
for a similar display of sang froid. 

While no one may see far Into the future, the 



CAREER OF ARMY SURGEON 293 

maxim, "In time of peace prepare for war/' is as 
true of the medical department as of any. Were it 
a state secret no one would breathe it here, but it is 
lamentably true and publicly known that even now 
we are not prepared as we should be. The awful 
lessons of the Spanish War have been forgotten. 
West Point officers have until comparatively recently 
received no instruction in camp sanitation. Some of 
us worked hard a while ago to have at least elemen- 
tary instruction in it introduced into their curriculum. 
As an illustration I believe that to-day they are 
taught more about horse's feet and how to keep 
them in good condition, than about those of their 
men. Line officers, especially volunteer, have never 
been too ready to locate their camps where water 
and drainage were the best, and the awful mortality 
of the Spanish War was mainly due to preventable 
disease, while this was due to stupid and inexcusable 
disregard, on the part of officers of the line (mainly 
volunteer) of the advice of their medical officers. 

But, after all, gentlemen, the discouragements you 
will meet with will be far fewer than those with 
which your predecessors had to contend, while the 
pleasant side of your lives will be far pleasanter than 
was theirs. In fact, I think your lives have in many 
respects fallen in pleasanter places than have ours. 
Discipline and order protect you to a large extent 
from quackery and idiocy. The fads of the day dis- 
appear before the appearance of the flag and the 
sound of the drum. So-called Christian Science finds 



294 CAREER OF ARMY SURGEON 

no place in your curriculum, and it will be long, I 
trust, before the army chaplain tinctures the military 
hospital with sectarian therapeutics or an Emanuel 
church cult. If by entering the army one may escape 
disgusting influences of this character, then it may 
become such a refuge that it shall thereby be made 
both inviting and invincible. 

It is pleasing to those of us who co-operated in the 
movement, to have the assurances of the Surgeon 
General that the establishment of the Medical Re- 
serve Corps has been of actual benefit to the regular 
Army Medical Department. While the military 
rank to which its members found themselves sudden- 
ly elevated was not so lofty as to cause any attacks 
of vertigo, none having been up to the present day 
reported, it at least gives us satisfaction to realize 
that help may thus be afforded from private life, and 
that a closer rapport has been effected. 

And now it is well nigh as difficult a task to ap- 
propriately conclude these remarks as to begin them. 
Men come and go; a few leave imprints of their 
footsteps; the vast majority make no impression that 
lingers. 

''Some when they die, die all; their mouldering clay 
Is but an emblem of their memories ; 
The space quite closes up through which they 
passed." 

Fain would I believe that many of you would 
make enduring records. Yet each can do his best, 



CAREER OF ARMY SURGEON 295 

and I doubt not each will do it. You have so much 
to encourage you, so comparatively little to hamper 
or hold back. Glorious is your work, glorious may 
be your fulfillment of it. We have lived in a goodly 
time; you will enjoy one still more goodly. With 
scientific progress, whose like the world has never 
known, and with an altruism which makes the world 
constantly better, you will be able to do things never 
done by your predecessors. 

" 'Tis coming up the steeps of time, 
And this old world is growing brighter I 
We may not sec its dawn sublime. 
Yet high hopes make the heart throb lighter ! 
Our dust may slumber underground 
When it awakens the world in wonder; 
But we have felt it gathering 'round ! 
We have heard its voice of distant thunder. 
'Tis coming! Yes, 'tis coming! 

" 'Tis coming now, that glorious time 
Foretold by seers and sung in story, 
For which, when thinking was a crime, 
Souls leaped to heaven from scaffolds gory! 
They passed. But lo ! the work they wrought ! 
Now the crowned hopes of centuries blossom, 
The lightning of their living thought 
Is flashing through us, brain and bosom ; 
'Tis coming! Yes, 'tis coming." 



XI 

THE EVOLUTION OF THE SURGEON 
FROM THE BARBER 

IF one attempt to scan the field of the history of 
medicine, to take note of all the fallacies and 
superstitions which have befogged men's minds, 
and brought about what now seem to be the 
most absurd and revolting views and practices of 
times gone by, and if one search deliberately for that 
which is of curious nature, or calculated to serve as 
a riddle difficult of solution, he will scarcely in the 
tomes which he may consult find anything stranger 
than the close connection, nay, even the identity main- 
tained for centuries, between the trade of the barber 
and the craft of the surgeon. Even after having 
studied history and the various laws passed at differ- 
ent times, he will still miss the predominant yet con- 
cealed reason for this state of affairs. This will be 
found to be, in the words of Paget, the "maintenance 
of vested rights as if they were better than the pro- 
motion of knowledge." He will wonder also why 
women were licensed to practise surgery in the four- 
teenth century and prevented in the nineteenth, or why 
specialties were legally recognized in the sixteenth 
century only to lose their dignity and identity a little 
later. 

In thus attempting to consider the relations which 
296 



EVOLUTION OF THE SURGEON 297 

have existed In time past between barbers and sur- 
geons I must ask you to remember that there was a 
time when bleeding was deemed necessary for the cure 
of almost all ailments, and that after the Church had 
condemned the shedding of blood by any of her of- 
ficials it was most natural to turn for assistance to 
the barbers, who were supposed to be dexterous with 
sharp Instruments, with basins and with towels. 
Thus It happened that when the barbers found them- 
selves permitted to perform this sole act they natur- 
ally ventured further and practised many parts of 
minor surgery Independently of the ecclesiastics. 

Moreover there persist to-day in Europe many 
relics of the old customs, and the barber surgeon is 
still a common figure in Germany, and particularly 
in Russia, where the really educated surgeons are 
still too few for a vast and widespread population. 
It must be remembered also that the Church grad- 
ually Imbued men's minds with a horror of a dead 
body, and of the profanation which followed having 
anything to do with it, and surrounded the study of 
anatomy with every possible obstacle and obloquy; 
even to such an extent that to be known as having 
dissected a human body was to be exposed to indig- 
nity, assault and even death. It was, therefore only 
Intense yearning for knowledge, on the part of 
earnest men, which then permitted anatomical in- 
struction to be given or encouraged. 

During the middle ages the greatest medical 
school in the world was situated at Salernum (or 



298 EVOLUTION OF THE SURGEON 

Salerno), but a short distance from Naples. This 
is not the place in which to discuss its history, al- 
though it became famous above almost every other 
institution of learning of any kind, and though, by 
one of the freaks of history, even the site of the 
buildings is now lost and no one seems to know just 
where they stood. In his time, namely, in 1240, the 
Emperor Frederick II was the great patron of this 
college ; his decrees concerning the regulation of the 
study and practice of medicine deserve attention to- 
day. A part of one of his enactments reads as fol- 
lows: "Since it is possible for a man to understand 
medical science only if he has previously learned 
something of logic, we ordain that no one shall be 
permitted to study medicine until he has given his 
attention to logic for three years. After these three 
years he may if he wishes proceed to the study of 
medicine." And again: "No surgeon shall be al- 
lowed to practise until he has submitted certificates 
in writing, of the teachers of the faculty of medicine, 
that he has spent at least one year in that part of 
medical science which gives skill in the practice of 
surgery, that in the college he has diligently and es- 
pecially studied the anatomy of the human body, and 
is also thoroughly experienced in the way in which 
operations are successfully performed and heahng 
afterwards brought about." 

When first we hear of medical men in Great 
Britain they were commonly spoken of as leeches, 
as among the Danes and Saxons ; later the clergy in- 



EVOLUTION OF THE SURGEON 299 

troduced books from Rome, and almost every Mon- 
astery had some brother possessed of more or less 
knowledge of the medicine of the day. The College 
of Salernum later gave great impetus to the study of 
medicine, even before the days of William the Con- 
queror, which was strengthened by the influence 
emanating from Naples, and particularly from 
Montpelller. For centuries the Catholic clergy were 
almost the only persons with sufficient education to 
study and practise physic; which profession became 
in time so lucrative that many of the monks aban- 
doned their monasteries, neglecting their rehglous 
duties, and applied themselves to the study of medi- 
cine. To such an extent was this true that In 11 63 
the Council of Tours forbade monks staying out of 
the monastery for more than two months at a time, 
or teaching or practising physic. In taking this ac- 
tion the Council only repeated what had been or- 
dained by decree of Henry III in 12 16, and by the 
second Council of Lateran in 1139. No restraint 
was at first placed upon the secular clergy, and many 
of the Bishops and other church dignitaries gained 
both money and honor by acting as physicians to 
Kings and Princesses. 

Next to the clergy the Jews possessed the largest 
share of learning. Their nomadic life permitted an 
intercourse with the different nations of the world, 
which was denied to most others, and there were 
many who studied medicine and practised, not only 
among those of their own race but amongst Moors 



300 EVOLUTION OF THE SURGEON 

and Christians alike. The priests became extremely 
jealous of Jewish physicians and of lay surgeons, and 
endeavored to secure through Rome a formal ex- 
communication of all who committed themselves to 
the care of a Jew, while by canon law no Jew might 
give medicine to a Christian. But so celebrated were 
the Jewish physicians, and so superior to everything 
else was men's desire for life and strength, that even 
the power of Rome could not exclude them from 
practice. Still less could the clergy restrain the lay 
surgeons from the performance of their craft, and 
though it would appear that at first, in England, the 
priests were not disposed to separate surgery from 
medicine, the Pope became jealous of so much inter- 
ruption to the duties of the clergy and looked upon 
the manual part of surgery as detracting from cleri- 
cal dignity. Accordingly were made numerous at- 
tempts to debar priests from the performance of 
surgical operations. In 12 15 the ecclesiastics were 
prohibited by Pope Innocent III from undertaking 
any operation involving the shedding of blood, while 
by Boniface VIII at the close of the thirteenth cen- 
tury, and Clement V, about the beginning of the 
fourteenth century, surgery was formally separated 
from physic and the priests positively forbidden to 
practice it. It is to the Church then that we owe this 
absolute abandonment of surgery to an illiterate and 
grasping laity. For some time, however, the priests 
kept their hold upon surgery by instructing their ser- 
vants, the barbers, who were employed to shave 



EVOLUTION OF THE SURGEON 301 

their own priestly beards, in the performance of 
minor operations. It was these men, who were in 
some degree quahfied by the instruction of the clergy, 
who first assumed the title of barber surgeons, and 
who gradually formed a great fraternity. 

In France it was in the reign of Louis XIV that 
the hairdressers were formally separated from the 
barber-surgeons, the latter being incorporated as a 
distinct medical body. In London it was in 1375 
that the Company of Barbers were practically di- 
vided into two sections, containing respectively those 
who practiced shaving, and those who practiced sur- 
gery. In 1460 the surgeons were finally incorpor- 
ated by themselves as the Guild of Surgeons and 
took their place as one of the liveried companies of 
the city of London. Similar separation occurred in 
the original great Guild of Weavers, who divided 
into the Woollen Drapers and Linen Armourers, the 
latter afterwards becoming the wealthy and power- 
ful Company of Merchant Tailors. 

To trace the history of the London Company of 
Barbers a little more fully, it was first formed in 
1308 and incorporated in 1462 by a charter. In one 
of the statutes of Henry VIII it was enacted that: 
"No person using any shaving or barbery in London 
shall occult (i. e. practise) any surgery, letting of 
blood or other matter except only drawing of teeth.*' 
In 1540 Parliament passed an act allowing the 
United Companies of Barbers and Surgeons each to 
have yearly the bodies of four criminals for dissec- 



302 EVOLUTION OF THE SURGEON 

tion. In 15 1 8 the barbers and surgeons were united 
in one company; the former being restricted from all 
operations except tooth drawing, and the latter hav- 
ing to abandon shaving and hair dressing. 

It is interesting also to note that in Oxford, for 
instance, the Barbers, Surgeons, Waferers and Mak- 
ers of "Singing bread" were all of the same fellow- 
ship, from 1348 to 1500; when, at last, the Cappers, 
or knitters of caps, were united to them, in 155 1, the 
barbers and waferers abrogated their charter and 
took one in the name of the city, until 1675, when 
they received a charter from the University. 

The London Guild of Surgeons appears to have 
been first a mere fraternity which had incorporated it- 
self, and to have originated from an association of 
the military barber surgeons who had been trained 
in the hundred years war with France, 1337 to 1444. 
Its membership, however, was select, and when the 
physicians declined an alliance with it, it amalga- 
mated with the barber companies in 1540. The 
United Company of Barbers and Surgeons was pe- 
culiar in that strangers and those who were not free 
men were admitted, while the journeymen 'of the 
craft formed a subordinate body within the com- 
pany. In 1745 the surgeons separated from the bar- 
bers and formed a surgeon's company which rapidly 
acquired influence. By a foolish blunder it forfeited 
its charter in 1496 but was subsequently incorporated 
by George III, in 1800, as the Royal College of Sur- 
geons in London; a body which has since main- 



EVOLUTION OF THE SURGEON 303 

talned Its identity, grown tremendously in wealth 
and strength, and having become one of the licensing 
bodies of England, has acquired the finest collection 
of books and specimens In the world and has num- 
bered the brightest intellects which the English sur- 
gical profession has contained. 

In Dublin the Barber Surgeons were incorporated 
as a guild by charter granted by Henry VI, In 1446. 
In 1576 they were amalgamated with the independent 
surgeons, and by Queen Elizabeth with the barber 
surgeons and wig-makers. This confraternity was 
dissolved in 1784 and the College of Surgeons found- 
ed Immediately afterwards. In Edinburgh the bar- 
bers and surgeons were united in 1505, to be sepa- 
rated at about the same time as elsewhere in Great 
Britain. 

During the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries on 
the continent medicine and surgery were abruptly sep- 
arated, and the latter was almost entirely In the hands 
of the barbers. For hundreds of years the dissection 
of corpses and the embalming of those who could af- 
ford It, were In the hands of first the butchers and 
later of the barbers. The greatest contempt was 
everywhere shown for one who attempted any sur- 
gery. If for instance a nobleman while being bled 
by a barber received the slightest harm the poor bar- 
ber was heavily fined, while, should the gentleman 
die, the culprit was given Into the hands of the dead 
man's relatives to be dealt with as they desired. 
Throughout the monasteries and whenever the in- 



304 EVOLUTION OF THE SURGEON 

fluence of the Church was felt it was forbidden to the 
monks, who had the monopoly of knowledge, to per- 
form any surgical operation since the Church ab- 
horred the shedding of blood.* 

For hundreds of years the monks were not allowed 
to wear a beard; this necessitated the employment of 
tonsors (^'tonsorial-artists" they call themselves to- 
day) to whom was left also the performance of any- 
thing that partook of the nature of an operation, such 
as bleeding, bandaging, etc. This calling, was how- 
ever, recognized as a most inferior one, and the 
barbers, like the bathkeeper, the shepherd and the 
hangman, were not considered of good repute. Con- 
sequently, such an one was not eligible for member- 
ship in any other guilds or fraternities. In 1406 the 
Emperor Wenzel was rescued from prison, in Prague, 
by the daughter of a bathkeeper; in gratitude he 
made her his mistress, and declared both barbers and 
bathkeepers to be respectable; but having lost his 
position his decree had no weight, and not until 1548, 
in Augsburg, were they really made eligible to the 
guilds. At this time their most dignified labor was 
the sharpening of instruments. In 1696 Leopold I. 
decreed their profession to be an art, and gave it a 
position above that of the apothecary so that in their 
most dignified occupation they were elevated to the 
making of ointments and plasters. 



*I leave it to defenders of the Faith to reconcile this abhor- 
rence with the persecutions of heretics and the tortures of the 
Inquisition permitted by the same Church, 



EVOLUTION OF THE SURGEON 305 

As surgery has for the profession of barber sur- 
gery to thank the existence upon man of a beard, so 
the European continent may thank the Crusaders of 
the eleventh century for having necessitated the ex- 
istence of the bathkeeper, because of the leprosy 
which they brought home from the East. During 
the Crusades, as is well known, there were founded 
numerous Orders having for their original purpose 
the care and protection of pilgrims and injured sol- 
diers. The three most celebrated Orders were the 
Knights of St. John, the Knights Templar and the 
Teutonic Order. Were this the place it would be 
most interesting to go into a history of these religio- 
medico-military Orders, and show how from most de- 
vout purposes and humble origin they grew into des- 
potic and tyrannical associations of great power, 
which it finally took all the force of Church and State 
to suppress. As the then humble and enthusiastic 
members of these Orders returned from the Holy 
Land they established hospitals for the care of lepers, 
who became very numerous in Europe. For instance 
it Is stated that in France, in 1225, there were two 
thousand hospitals for this purpose, while the King 
Louis the Great founded, in 1260, a special hospital 
for those made blind by Egyptian ophthalmia. It is 
well known also that during the middle ages there 
was the greatest neglect of the ordinary canons of 
cleanliness both among the upper and lower classes. 
The number of hospitals and cloisters dedicated to 
the lepers being Insufficient, bath houses were built 



3o6 EVOLUTION OF THE SURGEON 

and bathkeepers were engaged in order, so far as pos- 
sible, to prevent the spread of leprosy. At this time 
the bathkeeper was permitted to bathe and cup, later 
also to bleed, although the bleeding was required to 
be done in the bathkeepers' own house, since he was 
not usually permitted to enter a patient's house. As 
bathing became less necessary for purposes already 
mentioned the bathkeeper took to imitating the bar- 
ber, though much later, and not until about 1750 in 
some countries, were they permitted to do this pub- 
licly, and only after having passed the examinations 
to which the barber was also subjected. In Prussia 
they were only allowed to treat wounds and chronic 
diseases, and so it came about that by the beginning 
of the eighteenth century a really conscientious and 
efficient barber surgeon was supposed to have served 
an apprenticeship in large hospitals, to have wit- 
nessed the work of noted surgeons and to have served 
in the Army or Navy. He was also supposed to be 
something of a linguist and to know a little botany; 
particularly was he expected to be conversant with 
anatomy, although there was a sad lack of cadavers 
— which was atoned for by the use of carcasses of an- 
imals, for the main part swine. 

Eckardt, writing at this time of the sixteen dif- 
ferent virtues of a barber, enumerated, first of all, 
fear of God ; then that he should be careful, prudent, 
temperate, and ready to use both hands with equal 
dexterity; he claimed that ''Arrogance seems most 
prevalent among barbers, as a common saying would 



EVOLUTION OF THE SURGEON 307 

imply 'barbers are proud animals.' " He expressed 
his surprise also at the envy and malice between bath- 
keepers and barbers, and advised them both to consult 
physicians and other masters. 

The customs of the time must be blamed for this 
lamentable condition of affairs. The boy who was 
destined to become a barber was apprenticed at a 
time when he had scarcely learned to write. If he 
could write legibly and read a little Latin no one 
dared refuse him. He learned to shave and went 
from house to house for this purpose, spending the 
little time remaining in sharpening knives, spreading 
plasters, picking lint, taking care of children, doing 
all menial duties, and using the same light as the 
housemaid because it would have been disrespectful 
to his master's wife to use any other. After 
years of this work he was gradually taken to visit pa- 
tients and then was taught how to bleed, cup, apply 
leeches, extract teeth and adminster cylsters. His 
master knowing nothing of anatomy could give him 
no instruction, though by the laws of apprenticeship 
he was bound to do so. Before concluding this ap- 
prenticeship he was supposed to pass an examination, 
which his master's laziness usually permitted him to 
escape. He then presented the master with some sil- 
ver instruments and was dismissed with an injunc- 
tion to be thankful that such a miserable specimen of 
God's creatures had ever been taught to shave a 
beard or spread a plaster. He now became a journey- 
man, still living at the house of his master, and was 



3o8 EVOLUTION OF THE SURGEON 

not allowed to marry; after a while he received a 
paltry sum as wages, got his dinners free and began 
to dabble on his own account. Study was out of the 
question ; these men could not understand what little 
they did read and served the community mainly as 
bearers of tales. After some years of activity as 
journeyman they could become masters by applying 
to the authorities, presenting certificates, and passing 
an examination before the physicians of the district. 

Prussia was the first country to appreciate the ne- 
cessity of regulating medical practice, and the bar- 
bers and bathkeepers were placed under the control 
of the Medical College founded, in 1685, by Prince 
Frederick William. In 1724 this institution attained 
its greatest activity, having a subordinate school in 
each province. In 1725 King Frederick William 
issued a famous edict which did much to regulate 
medical affairs throughout the kingdom, and directed 
among other things that barbers and bathkeepers 
should "lead a religious, temperate, retired and sober 
life, in order to be at their best whenever their ser- 
vices were required." When their business was not 
sufficiently good they assumed other cares, as, for in- 
stance, one man was surgeon, mxunicipal judge and 
post-master all at once. They were extremely en- 
vious of each other and often dabbled in medicine 
without permission. It was not until 1779 that the 
bathkeepers were permitted to rank in Prussia with 
the barbers, and were allowed to use more than four 
basins, the bathkeepers' guild being incorporated with 



EVOLUTION OF THE SURGEON 309 

that of the barber. 

There being no temptation to enter these ranks it Is 
not strange that so late even as 1790 good surgeons 
were rare in Germany; not one in fifty of the barbers 
really knowing the first principles of the work they 
were supposed to perform. It came to such a pass 
that surgeons were compelled to shave and perform 
other duties of the hairdresser, for no surgeon, how- 
ever skilled, was allowed to practice as such, unless 
he was the proprietor of a head-shaving and bathing 
establishment, with assistants and apprentices, and be- 
longed to the barbers' guild, or unless he was favored 
by Royal exemption. It was the general lament in 
Germany, all through the 1 8th century, that German 
surgeons were educated in barber shops. Even by 
the middle of that century the practice of surgery 
was not considered an honorable business, and those 
who practiced it were not permitted to carry a sword, 
neither was a surgeon admitted into society nor toler- 
ated among physicians; moreover when unsuccessful 
he was bitterly and relentlessly pursued. Under ex- 
isting conditions the Reichstag either could or would 
do nothing to alleviate the distressing condition. The 
physician boasted of his education and treated the 
surgeon and his craft with disdain, holding that sur- 
gery sustained the same relation to medicine that 
geometry does to higher mathematics and physics. 
All this time, however, while the physician contented 
himself with disdaining surgeons he made no at- 
tempt to elevate the craft nor to himself study and 



310 EVOLUTION OF THE SURGEON 

adorn it. Even by the beginning of the nineteenth cen- 
tury there were scarcely any physicians in Europe 
who could diagnose a surgical case, while dentistry 
they claimed called for no more skill than that suf- 
ficient for tooth extraction. It was even claimed 
that so long as the people generally were neglectful 
of their teeth the physician, or even the surgeon, 
should be ashamed to concern himself with dentistry. 
Von Siebold, in his day, deplored the position of 
the surgeon; his large military experience had shown 
him the difficulties with which he had to contend be- 
fore he could enter society, while his ambitions and 
high motives were scorned. Even the peasantry were 
bitterly opposed to all operations. So intense were 
their feelings that he repeatedly removed his pa- 
tients to other towns before performing operations. 
Nevertheless it was true that there were the best of 
reasons for lack of confidence in any barber who 
dropped his razor for the purpose of treating a frac- 
ture, a hernia or an obstetric case. The State re- 
quired a barber surgeon to call in a physician in all 
complicated surgical cases. In such a case the phy- 
sician demanded the control of the case and reserved 
to himself the right to judge of what was required. 
He would not even consider a surgeon who had ob- 
tained the doctorate as his equal. Such consultations 
resulted in little but quarrels and disagreeable scenes. 
If a village contained no physician the surgeon treat- 
ed also internal diseases, though he was not allowed 
to use strong medicines. Every district had its 



EVOLUTION OF THE SURGEON 311 

special surgeon who, alone, had charge of several 
villages where he had the right to keep journeymen 
and apprentices and to do shaving and cupping. In 
the Prussian capital city only twenty German and 
six French surgeons were allowed to practice in 
1725, besides the court and private surgeons. 

Until 1808 every German surgeon carried on a 
medico-legal business which was later separated 
from his surgery. In 1782 there were three classes 
of surgeons ; from the lower one might be promoted 
to a higher after an examination. In Austria, in 
1805, there were doctors of surgery who were re- 
quired to show a general knowledge of medicine and 
who had the same rights as the physicians ; there were 
also medical surgeons who could practice under re- 
strictions, and bathkeepers for minor surgery. Af- 
ter the year 1773 barbers and bathkeepers were both 
spoken of in Austria as surgeons; this was to break 
up the disputes between them. According to an of- 
ficial feebill holding good in Prussia in 18 15, the 
highest fee that could be charged for an operation 
was for lithotomy in adults, the maximum limit being 
about M. 140 ($35), while the majority of opera- 
tions ranged from M. 20 to M. 50 ($5.00 to 
$13.00 expressed in U. S. money). Of course this 
was at a time when the value of money was much 
greater than now. 

As already made plain, it was the Church which 
by its decrees brought about the separation of sur- 
gery from medicine, a condition not existing during 



312 EVOLUTION OF THE SURGEON 

the palmy days of Greece and Rome. Even the Uni- 
versity of Paris at one time refused to admit a student 
who had not foresworn the study of surgery, while 
the denouncement of anatomy and surgery alike was 
promulgated by both papal bulls and clerical decrees. 
While many of the physicians considered surgery too 
burdensome a study, and many others had a severe 
prejudice against it, the principal cause operating to 
keep them apart was probably the fact that for sur- 
geons there was absolutely no social position. In 
1774 Mederer was made Professor of Surgery in 
Freiburg, in Breisgau; he delivered his opening ad- 
dress on the wisdom and necessity of combining medi- 
cine and surgery. As a result he was persecuted by 
the public, insulted by students, abused by surgeons 
and constantly threatened with personal assault. He 
maintained his position, however, and fought against 
the prejudice. Twenty- two years later, when he left 
Freiburg, he referred in his last lecture to his early 
experience. By this time public opinion had been so 
changed that the students serenaded him and humbly 
apologized for what their predecessors had done. 
Mederer could then see the success of his efforts in 
that the constitution of France contained a clause 
combining medicine and surgery, and the Royal San- 
itary Commissioners of Vienna had unanimously re- 
solved in favor of such union. 

The movement begun by Mederer was continued 
by men like Richter, Von Siebold, Loder and others. 
In 1797, or over a hundred years ago, the Electoral 



EVOLUTION OF THE SURGEON 313 

Academy of Erfurt offered a prize for the best essay 
on the subject "Is it necessary and possible to com- 
bine medicine and surgery theoretically as well as 
practically?" Fourteen papers were submitted, of 
which twelve were in favor of union. Nevertheless 
the Academy awarded the prize to the only writer 
who had opposed such union. His reasons for such 
opposition were most puerile, as were all the argu- 
ments subsequently advanced against it. Nevertheless 
a great step was taken in advance, when the guilds 
and fraternities of barbers and bathkeepers were abol- 
ished, in which good work Vienna, in 1783, took the 
lead. It was then declared that shaving was the 
business of the hair-dresser, and that barber surgeons 
must attend lectures in surgery and anatomy. Ba- 
varia followed in 1804, and four years later, in Prus- 
sia, no one was permitted to practice surgery without 
having studied medicine. The rules of 1786 regu- 
lating the respective positions and duties between 
physicians and surgeons were annulled in 1808, and 
by 1 8 1 1 the barber license was no longer essential 
for the practice of surgery, the privileges of the bar- 
ber, as such, being abolished, while for his trade only 
a common license was needed. 



XII 

THE STORY OF THE DISCOVERY OF THE 
CIRCULATION 

A Study of the Times and Labors of William 
Harvey* 



H 



ISTORY in general is but a record of the 
succession of great events or epochs which 
have moulded the world's affairs. That 
which is of the greatest import in the 
life of the individual may count for little in the lives 
of his contemporaries, and yet it must be said that in 
the events of to-day there has occurred a great epoch 
in the life of each of you, presumably the most im- 
portant as yet in your personal records. This day is 
then in your personal histories one of the greatest 
importance. It is desirable, therefore, that your lives 
be so moulded and influenced by it that you may long 
hence look back to it and recall its significance. 

I do not know what advice I can give you which 
will be more fruitful of results, than that among 
your studies you include that of the lives of the great 
men who have moulded destiny and made the world's 
history. Their lives were modified by little things, 
as have been and will be yours, and yet out of small 



*Address delivered at the Annual Commencement of the 
Medical Department of the University of Chicago, (Rush Medi- 
cal College), June 13, 1906. 



DISCOVERY OF CIRCULATION 315 

matters grew for them and for us some of the most 
far reaching effects. Select the really great men 
of whom you best happen to know and analyze their 
characters that you may appreciate how they have 
become great; while if they have, as all great men 
have, traits of smallness, study even wherein they are 
small, and how such faults may be avoided. 

History runs as does a fairly steady stream, save 
that every now and then some event abruptly diverts 
its course or influences its current. It has been so, 
for instance, with the history of medicine. For the 
first sixteen hundred years of the Christian era men 
engaged in the crude practices of our profession, ut- 
terly ignorant of the course of the blood, as well as 
of its purposes. Then appeared upon the scene a 
man who did his own thinking, who was willing to 
free himself from the shackles of the past, to observe 
nature and to reason therefrom. In this way came 
suddenly upon the world, as it were, an appreciation 
of the Circulation of the Blood, than which perhaps 
no event in medical history has been of greater im- 
portance or reflected more credit upon its demon- 
strator. 

It is my purpose, then, to-day to try to tell you, 
in a semipopular way, how William Harvey came to 
make this great discovery, as well as to give you 
some idea of the difficulties under which he worked, 
and of the men and influences that surrounded him, 
believing that rather than spend a half hour in hu- 
morous platitudes which may provoke a smile, but 



3i6 DISCOVERY OF CIRCULATION 

which are quickly forgotten, it is much better to try 
to implant something which may linger a while in 
your memories, and sufficiently impress you with the 
value of observation and inductive reasoning, since 
if you become thus fully impressed you will be spared 
in the future many sad errors of speech and even of 
thought. 

Before telling the story of Harvey's life and work 
let us study for a few moments the general condition 
of affairs in Europe, in order that we may better 
understand the men whose influence surrounded him, 
as well as the spirit of the times and men's habits 
of thought. 

Among the monarchs reigning in various paris of 
Europe during Harvey's time there were, for in- 
stance, in that part of the Empire of the West which 
was called Germany, Rudolph II, Matthias and Fer- 
dinand. In Sweden reigned King Sigismund, Charles 
IX, the great monarch Gustavus Adolphus, and 
Queen Christine. In Prussia the throne had been oc- 
cupied by Joachim, George William" and Frederick 
William, as electors, this being before the days of the 
Prussian kings. In Russia the Czars Boris Godunow, 
Michael Theodore and Alexis had occupied the 
throne. 

France had but recently passed through the inhu- 
man butchery of the massacre of St. Bartholomew 
and its accompanying persecution of the Huguenots, 
under Charles IX, who expressed the hope that not a 
single Huguenot would be left alive to reproach him 



DISCOVERY OF CIRCULATION 317 

with the deed, but who died himself soon after the 
massacre, which is said to have caused him bitter re- 
morse. Charles had been succeeded by his brother 
Henry III, a weak, fickle and vicious monarch, whose 
weakness caused him to be embroiled in civil strife, 
which was only concluded by his own assassination 
at the hands of a Dominican friar. Then came Hen- 
ry IV, he of Navarre, afterwards surnamed The 
Great, who fought the famous battle of Ivry in 1590, 
and who reigned for twenty-one years, the greatest 
and most popular sovereign who ever occupied the 
throne of France. Notwithstanding his noble quali- 
ties he did not succeed in preserving his court from 
many of the contaminations of the age, and In his 
reign it is said that no less than 4,000 French gentle- 
men were killed in duels, chiefly arising out of quar- 
rels about women. He was succeeded by Louis XIII, 
who was still on the throne when Harvey died. 

In Harvey's own country James I was occupying 
the throne when Harvey appeared upon the scene. 
He was that royal pedant whom the Duke of Sully 
pronounced "the wisest fool In Europe." After his 
death, and when Charles I ascended the throne dur- 
ing his twenty-fifth year, in 1625, Harvey was pre- 
paring to publish his great work. It was this Charles 
I who retained as a favorite the worthless scoundrel 
Buckingham, whose misconduct in Spain prevented 
the proposed marriage of the king with the Spanish 
Infanta and brought about the Civil War. It was 
because of the cost of this war, and of the king's 



3i8 DISCOVERY OF CIRCULATION 

disputes with Parliament regarding the matter, that 
England was rent between the conflicts of the Cav- 
aliers and the Roundheads, two of the consequences 
of this intestine strife being the execution of the Earl 
of Strafford and of Archbishop Laud. The troubles 
thus engendered finally cost the life of the king him- 
self, who was beheaded in 1649. Harvey even lived 
to see the first half of the short tenure of office of 
Cromwell as the Great Protector, and was perhaps 
fortunate in dying before began the reign of that 
odious profligate Charles II. 

It is worth while to enquire for a moment what 
was doing on this side of the ocean at this period 
which we have now under consideration. In 1607 
Virginia was settled by the English, in 16 14 New 
York, by the Dutch, in 1620 Massachusetts and, 
three years later. New Hampshire, by the English 
Puritans; in 1624 New Jersey, by the Dutch, in 1627 
Delaware by Swedes and Finns, in 1630 Maine, by 
the English, in 1634 Maryland, by Irish Catholics, 
in 1635 Connecticut, by English Puritans. Thus it 
will be seen that the active period of Harvey's life 
was synchronous with the beginnings of our colonial 
activities. Very little knowledge of what was going 
on in the then world of science was brought to this 
country at this period of its existence, however, and 
it was many years before in these colonies there were 
any exhibitions of scientific interest save in extremely 
scattered and sporadic cases. 

Among Harvey's literary associates were a number 






DISCOVERY OF CIRCULATION 319 

of celebrated English poets, for example, — Marlowe 
(1593)) Spenser (1598), Beaumont (1615), Shake- 
speare (1615), Herbert (1635), Ben Jonson 
(1637), Masslnger (1639). Lord Bacon died a 
year or two after the appearance of Harvey's book, 
while Baron Napier, the inventor of logarithms, had 
passed away. His contemporaries in Italy, where he 
had studied, included Tasso (1595) and Galileo 
(1645). Rubens had died in 1640, Michael Angelo 
in 1564 and Titian in 1576. In France, Calvin, the 
practical murderer of Servetus, had passed away in 
1564, Beza died in 1605, Descartes in 1650, Pascal 
in 1662 and Gassendi in 1655. Portugal had pro- 
duced but one great figure in the i6th century, namely 
Camoens, who died in 1579. In Spain, Loyola, the 
ascetic and fanatic founder of the Jesuits, had joined 
the great majority in 1556; but Cervantes did not 
die until 16 16, Lope de Vega in 1635, Velasquez in 
1660 and Calderon in 1667. 

In Germany some great figures had but recently 
disappeared. Paracelsus died in 1541, Copernicus 
in 1543, Luther in 1546, Hans Holbein in 1554, and 
Melancthon in 1560. Mercator, who introduced a 
new method of cartography, died in 1594, Tycho 
Brahe in 1601, Keppler in 1631, Van Dyck in 1641, 
Grotius, the great scholar, in 1645, Rembrandt in 
1668 and Spinoza in 1677. 

In philosophy, scepticism was the prevailing doc- 
trine in the time of Harvey. It had been founded a 
hundred years previously by Montaigne, and continued 



320 DISCOVERY OF CIRCULATION 

by Charron, the chaplain of Queen Margaret of 
Navarre, who died in 1603, and who declared all 
religion to be opposed to human reason; — a remark- 
able attitude for a chaplain to assume. Opposed to 
the scepticism of Harvey's day was the mystic, Cab- 
alistic or supernatural philosophy especially repre- 
sented by Bohme, a peasant shoemaker, uneducated 
and yet wonderfully gifted. He had been the philo- 
sophical colleague of that great Meistersinger, Hans 
Sachs. Later philosophers and thinkers, yet belong- 
ing to Harvey's time, were Pascal, the great Jansenist, 
who discovered the variations of atmospheric pres- 
sure at different levels, and Malebranche, who figures 
prominently in the history of philosophy. 

Descartes, who died in 1650, held the pineal gland 
to be the seat of the soul. He was the discoverer of 
the laws of refraction of light and furnished the ex- 
planation for the rainbow. He attained greatest em- 
inence in mathematics, physics and philosophy, and 
was one of the inventors of modern algebra. One 
of his greatest opponents was that noble Jew, Spi- 
noza, whose colleagues had expelled him from the 
Sanhedrim to the sound of the trombone. 

The Italian Dominican Campanella, who died in 
1639, considered the foundation of knowledge to be 
supernatural revelation and its perception by the 
senses. In spite of these views he came before The 
Inquisition on a charge of heresy and of cooperation 
with the Turks, was tortured by the rack, and im- 
prisoned for thirty years. 



DISCOVERY OF CIRCULATION 321 

The mystic or Cabalistic notions of Harvey's day 
have just been mentioned. Under them we may 
recognize many degenerate products and amalgama- 
tions of the real doctrines of Paracelsus. The doc- 
trines of the Rosicrucians, as well as of Zoroaster and 
the Cabala, were revived and made to do strange 
work. There was, for instance, that Sir Kenelm 
Digby, who died in 1605, a King's chamberlain, who 
posed among the English as a so-called Rosicrucian. 
It was he who suggested the famous '^sympathetic 
powder/^ which was to be applied to the weapon by 
which a wound had been inflicted, after which the 
weapon was anointed and dressed two or three times 
a day, while the wound itself was carefully bound up 
with dressings and left alone for a week. This was 
perhaps much the better course, but it will show what 
strange notions prevailed in those days. 

What it meant to run counter to ecclesiastical policy 
and theological dogma appears not only in such trag- 
edies as terminated the lives of Bruno and many oth- 
er martyrs to science, but in such facts as these; for 
instance, when in 1624, just when Harvey was pre- 
paring to publish his work, some young chemists in 
Paris, seeing the benefit of the experimental method, 
broke away from Aristotle and the canons of theo- 
logical reasoning, the faculty of theology appealed to 
the Parliament of Paris, which latter prohibited all 
such researches, under the severest penalties. 

This was the time too when such exhibitions as 
the following were altogether too frequent; — One 



322 DISCOVERY OF CIRCULATION 

Quaresimo, of Lodi, came out with a pondrous work 
entitled ''A Historical, Theological and Moral Ex- 
planation of the Holy Land," in which he devoted 
great space to the question of The Dead Sea and the 
salt pillar supposed to represent Lot's wife, dividing 
a long chapter upon the subject into three parts, deal- 
ing with the method and the locality of this transfor- 
mation and the question of the existence at that time 
of her saHne remains. Thus, with his peculiar pow- 
ers of reasoning, he was able to decide the exact point 
where the saline change took place, and finally showed 
that the statue was still in existence. 

Lord Bacon was also an older contemporary of 
Harvey, having been born in 1561 and dying in 1626, 
shortly after the appearance of Harvey's great work. 
His services to analytic science need no description 
here, but it is worth while to remember that Harvey, 
like many others, must have come under his influence 
and have profited by his teachings in logic and an- 
alysis. 

At about the time when Harvey made known his 
discovery Bacon was publishing his views of the laws 
of transmission and reflection of sound. Great man 
as he was, with a keen foresight into the value of the 
recent inventions of the compass, gun-powder and 
printing, he nevertheless was himself so narrow, in 
some respects, that he placed but little value upon the 
discovery of Copernicus. He, however, paved the 
way for one in some respects still greater, namely 
Isaac Newton, who, however, had scarcely attained 



DISCOVERY OF CIRCULATION 323 

man's stature when Harvey died. 

How much we owe to the two great Bacons of 
history one cannot indicate in this short resume. Ro- 
ger Bacon (121 4- 1292) seems to have been the first 
great thinker along truly scientific lines. He was 
more than a mere chemist while, as White says, more 
than three centuries before Francis Bacon advocated 
the experimental method Roger Bacon had practised 
it, and in many directions. He did more than any- 
one else in the middle ages to direct thought into 
fruitful paths, and only now are we finding out how 
nearly he reached some of the principal doctrines of 
modern philosophy and chemistry. Most important 
of all, his methods were even greater than his results, 
and this at a time when ^'theological subtilizing" was 
the only passport to reputation for scholarship. 

It was Avicenna, the Arabian, who perhaps first 
announced substantially the modern theory of geol- 
ogy, accounting for changes in the earth's surface 
by suggesting a stone-making force, but the presence 
of fossils in the rocks had been always a thorn in the 
sides of the theologians. It was Leonardo da Vinci, 
that versatile genius in science and art, who, previous 
to Harvey's generation, suggested true notions as to 
the origin of fossils, while, in Harvey's time, Ber- 
nard Palissy, another artist, vehemently contended 
for their correctness. Still, even at Harvey's death, 
neither geology nor paleontology had come anywhere 
near scientific accuracy. 

The Academia del Lyncei, so-called from its seal, 



324 DISCOVERY OF CIRCULATION 

which bore the image of a fox, was founded in Rome 
in 1603. In France The Academy of Science was not 
founded until 1665, in Germany The Society of Nat- 
uralists and Physicians in 1652, and the British Roy- 
al Society in 1665. 

In matters of general interest it may be worth while 
to say that in architecture the general style of The 
Renaissance was changed for the more substantial 
Barocco, while the more formal and limited style of 
church music had given away to musical drama, i. e., 
opera, albeit in very crude form. The first news- 
paper had appeared at Antwerp in 1605, the first 
German paper being published in Frankfort in 161 5, 
and The London Weekly News making its first ap- 
pearance in 1620. Tobacco, which had been brought 
over by Raleigh in 1560, had come into quite general 
use, while coffee, tea and chocolate had gained in 
public esteem. When coffee was first introduced in 
England it sold for about $28 a pound. The first 
coffee house appears to have been established in Con- 
stantinople, in the middle of the i6th century, while 
the first cofifee house in London was not opened until 
a century later. 

The barbers still retained their ascendency, and 
the bath keepers had scarcely lost their position next 
to the barbers. It was not until Harvey had reached 
a ripe age that the barbers were required in Germany 
to pass an examination, in which they had to prove 
not only their knowledge but the legitimacy of their 
birth, and the fact that they had studied for three 



il 



DISCOVERY OF CIRCULATION 325 

years and had worked for three years more as ap- 
prentices. 

Anatomy was studied quite generally, sometimes 
upon human bodies. A dissecting room had been 
established in Dresden in 16 17, in which stuffed 
bears, at that time a great rarity, were preserved with 
other curiosities. In 1623 Rolfink, at Jena, arranged 
for public dissection upon the bodies of all executed 
malefactors, delegates being present thereat from 
various other institutions. It is worth while to men- 
tion that in Frankfort, for instance, during the expir- 
ation of 65 years, but seven dissections were made, 
and that these were always accompanied by a celebra- 
tion which lasted several days. Vienna did not pos- 
sess a skeleton in 1668, and Strassburg did not have 
one until 1671. Yet it is of interest to remember 
that the anatomical plates, like those often published 
to-day, which are meant to be lifted off in layers, ex- 
isted even at this period. On the other hand, bo- 
tanical gardens and chemical laboratories existed in 
several of the universities, — in Strassburg, for in- 
stance, in 1 6 19, — in Oxford in 1622. 

Fabricius Hildanus, the father of German surgery, 
or, as he has been sometimes called, the Ambroise 
Pare, of Germany, was also a contemporary of Har- 
vey's. His real name was Fabry and he was born in 
Hilden, but he latinized his name into that form us- 
ually adopted to-day. 

Scultetus was another famous surgeon of the same 
period. 



326 DISCOVERY OF CIRCULATION 

William Gilbert, 15 40- 1603, had been the talented 
physician of Queen Elizabeth, and was among the 
first to study the experimental method. With the 
appearance of his book upon the magnet, in 1600, 
began the science of electricity and magnetism. He 
was the first to teach the fact that the earth itself was 
a great magnet and he distinguished between mag- 
netic and electric reactions. Later the great 
Dutch anatomist, Ruysch, afforded corrobora- 
tion of Harvey's views by another method, when 
he invented and practised those beautiful minute in- 
jections of the vascular system which miade him so 
famous, and built up that great collection of 
specimens which Peter the Great bought for Rus- 
sia at an expense of about $75,000. 

Contemporary with Harvey also was Swammer- 
dam, one of the most versatile men of his time, fa- 
mous as naturalist, savant, physiologist, linguist and 
poet. It was during the fifteenth century that as- 
tronomy began to assume an importance and degree 
of accuracy never hitherto known. This was due 
very largely to the independence of thought and the 
researches of Copernicus, who was born in Cremona 
in 1477, and who studied medicine in Krakau and as- 
tronomy in Vienna. He lived to the age of 70 and 
was the real father of the heliocentric theory, now 
known as the Copernician system, which he substi- 
tuted for the previous Ptolemaic theory, thus revers- 
ing the ancient idea that the sun circled about the 
earth. Copernicus demonstrated the phases of the 



DISCOVERY OF CIRCULATION 327 

moon, but his opponents claimed that if this doctrine 
were true Venus would exhibit the same phenomena ; 
to which he replied that it was true, though he knew 
not what to say to these objections, but that God was 
good and would in time furnish answer to them. It 
was Galileo's crude telescope which, in Harvey's 
younger day, in 1 6 1 1 , furnished this answer and re- 
vealed the phases of Venus. To illustrate how the 
views of Copernicus were received we might add here 
that Martin Luther paid his compliments to him by 
declaring that Copernicus was a fool who wished to 
stand astronomy upon its head. 

Copernicus was succeeded by Galileo, who was 
born in 1554 in Pisa, and died 1642. He may be 
called the creator of dynamic astronomy and mechan- 
ics, as well as one of the most brilliant exponents of 
experimental and inductive reasoning. He was of no- 
ble birth and was, in fact, the torch bearer of physics 
at the period of The Renaissance. He gave up specu- 
lation and substituted for it the habit of observation, 
reaping a large harvest of surprising facts, any one 
of which might have immortalized him. He not only 
established the movements of the earth on its own 
axis as well as around the sun, which Copernicus had 
shown, but he discovered the weight of the atmos- 
phere and first calculated the law of gravity. He and 
his successors were governed always by that aphor- 
ism which is to-day as true as ever: "Experience is 
deceptive and judgment difficult." 

In 161 5 when he was before The Inquisition, at 



328 DISCOVERY OF CIRCULATION 

Rome, and when its theologians had examined state- 
ments extracted from his letters, they solemnly ren- 
dered their decision in these words : "The first propo- 
sition that the sun is the centre and does not revolve 
about the earth is foolish, absurd, false in theology 
and heretical, because expressly contrary to The Holy 
Scripture. The second proposition that the earth is 
not the centre, but revolves about the sun, is absurd, 
false in philosophy and, from a theological point of 
view, at least, opposed to the true faith." This for 
a pronunciamento from the infallible Church ! 

Galileo and Bruno have by some writers both been 
made to stand in an unpleasant light because of their 
recantation or shifting position before The Inquisi- 
tion. Bruno was the greatest philosopher and sceptic 
of the latter part of the i6th century, and had out- 
lined, withal somewhat vaguely, that which is now 
known as the nebular hypothesis. He was murdered 
by The Inquisition in 1600, and the views which he 
enunciated seem to have been buried with him, not 
to reappear until long after his sad fate had been con- 
summated. He had, for instance, contended for the 
truths of the Copernican doctrine, but it was not un- 
til ten years after his martyrdom that Galileo proved 
it with his telescope. That both these great men 
yielded in some respects to the influences of The In- 
quisition and renounced some of their scientific "her- 
esies" is largely to be excused by the fact that they were 
both old, broken in health from the sufferings which 
they had endured, as well as from their disappoint- 



DISCOVERY OF CIRCULATION 329 

ments, and that they had been, under these circum- 
stances, handed over to that Inquisition which knew 
no mercy. Galileo could well remember the auto 
da fe in the Piazza dei Fiore, in Rome, the scene of 
Bruno's martyrdom, as well as the tragic end of many 
another who had dared to have the courage of his 
convictions. Let us, then, not judge him harshly, but 
be grateful even that the enormous power of The In- 
quisition did not and could not suppress the truth. 

Galileo's discovery of the satellites of Jupiter, the 
rings of Saturn, his experiments with the pendulum, 
his construction of the telescope, as well as of the 
thermometer, and many other deeds, have stamped 
him as one of the great figures in the history of pro- 
gress and science. It is most interesting to note that 
this contemporary of Harvey's, like himself, was giv- 
en to inductions obtained from experimental studies. 
Another great astronomical light of Harvey's time 
was Keppler, who was driven from one place to 
another by religious fanaticism, until he ended his life 
in 1630. It was he who formulated the great prin- 
ciple which underlies the motions of the planets, and 
who gave to the world his so-called *'laws," which so 
materially advanced the science of astronomy. It 
was he who really discovered that comet which was 
later given Halley's name, whose periodic return he 
first foretold. 

Such was the spirit of the times in which Harvey 
lived, and such the influences which surrounded his 
teachers before him and himself in turn. It makes 



330 DISCOVERY OF CIRCULATION 

a long preface to a consideration of what Harvey 
himself accomplished, but it is not without its interest 
because men and their deeds must be judged largely 
by their environment. Now, to speak more particu- 
larly of Harvey himself, and what was known of the 
circulation when he undertook his investigations. 

The liver had been considered, from time immem- 
orial, as the principal factor in the production and 
movement of the blood. The ancients supposed that 
here the veins took their origin and that through 
them the blood flowed to all parts of the body, re- 
turning to its source by an undulating movement or 
series of alternate waves. The arteries had been sup- 
posed to contain only vital spirits, whose great reser- 
voir was the heart, although Erasistratus had admit- 
ted that in certain cases blood might escape into the 
arterial channels. Later Galen showed that the ar- 
teries always contained blood, and he knew that blood 
was poured into the right side of the heart by the 
great veins, but believed that only a little of it passed 
from the right ventricle into the lungs, the greater 
part of it passing through hypothetical pores in the 
septum and thus into the left ventricle. This opinion, 
like Galen's in other respects, remained unchanged 
until the middle of the i6th century. It was also 
known that valves existed within the veins, and that 
if an artery were tied on a living animal blood would 
cease to flow and pulsation be checked below the liga- 
ture, while if a vein were tied it shrunk above the 
ligature and became distended below. 



DISCOVERY OF CIRCULATION 331 

Three men before Harvey's time came very near 
to discovering the secret that made him famous; in 
fact, they made such advances on what was already 
known that history should accord them a dis- 
tinguished place. One was Columbus, who was born 
at Cremona in 1490, and died in 1559. He was first 
a pupil and prosector and then a friend of Vesalius, 
the great anatomist. Later he succeeded him at The 
University of Padua and unfortunately, after gaining 
his position, ungratefully turned upon his old teach- 
er. He was, however, for his day a good anatomist 
and especially a good osteologist. It was he who 
first demonstrated experimentally that blood passes 
through the lungs into the pulmonary veins and that 
the latter connect with the left ventricle. He thus 
practically established the fact of the lesser circula- 
tion. He suffered, however, as did Servetus, from 
the prevailing notion that spirits and blood were 
mixed together. From Padua Columbus went to 
Pisa, and then to Rome. He wrote with elegance 
and correctness of style and even described the vessels 
which penetrate the bone cells, the ossicles of the ear, 
the minute anatomy of the teeth, the ventricles of the 
larynx, as well as those valves which prevent the re- 
turn of blood from the lungs to the heart. In fact, 
he narrowly missed the significance of the actual facts 
of the case, simply failing in his final analysis and as- 
sembling of those facts which he had already demon- 
strated. 

Cesalpinus, who lived a little later, came still near- 



332 DISCOVERY OF CIRCULATION 

er the mark, having accepted the teachings of Colum- 
bus regarding the course of the blood through the 
lungs. He added that the ultimate arterial branches 
connect with those of the veins, and he taught that 
blood and vital spirits, from which the ancients could 
never separate themselves, passed from the arteries 
into the veins during sleep, as was demonstrated by 
the swelling of the veins and the diminution of the 
pulse at that time. 

A little later came Michael Servetus, who figures 
principally in history as a theologian and a victim of 
theologians, since he perished a martyr to Calvin's 
jealousy. He was, in effect, a wisely and widely edu- 
cated man who did a great deal for science, one of 
the offences attributed to him being an edition of 
Ptolemy's geography, in which Judea was described 
as a barren and inhospitable land instead of one 
"flowing with milk and honey." This simple state- 
ment of a geographical fact was made a tremendous 
weapon of offence by Calvin, who replied that even if 
Servetus had only quoted from Ptolemy and, although 
there were ample geographical proofs, it nevertheless 
"unnecessarily inculpated Moses and grievously out- 
raged The Holy Ghost." Servetus dared to deny the 
passage of the blood through the septum of the heart, 
and contended that that which comes into the right 
side was distributed to the lung and returned to the 
left ventricle. He published his views, however, in 
a religious treatise on Errors concerning The Trinity, 
a most unfortunate place in which to inject such an 



DISCOVERY OF CIRCULATION 333 

Important fact, since it gave his enemies a still great- 
er opportunity to vent and ventilate their spleen. Had 
he been able to leave out that notion of vital spirits, 
which prevailed with all his predecessors, he might 
actually have made the great discovery left for Har- 
vey to enunciate. I have not been able to refer to 
original documents in this matter, but it is claimed 
by some that his description of the circulation was 
contained in another religious work concerning the 
Restitution of Christianity, which was printed in 
Nuremburg in 1790. 

Such was the actual state of knowledge concern- 
ing the movements of the blood and the functions of 
the heart when Harvey published his great work. It 
behooves us now to proceed with a short account of 
Harvey's own life and researches. 

William Harvey was born at Folkstone on the first 
of April, 1578. He was the eldest son of a prosper- 
ous merchant who raised a large family and who oc- 
cupied the highest positions of honor in his own town. 
The son William was born to his second wife, by 
whom he had seven sons and two daughters. All of 
these children were helped to remunerative or honor- 
able positions. They became merchants or politicians 
or secured prominence in some way, but William was 
the only one to study medicine. He was sent to the 
King's school at Canterbury, In 1588, and he was 
admitted at Calus, In Cambridge, in 1593, where he 
graduated in arts In 1597. The following year he 
went to Padua, which then had one of the greatest 



334 DISCOVERY OF CIRCULATION 

medical schools of the time, and he obtained his 
medical diploma in 1602, when twenty-four years of 
age. Returning to England he received a doctor^s de- 
gree at Cambridge, and shortly afterward married a 
daughter of a London physician and entered upon the 
practice of medicine in London. 

In the great city his practice as a physician seems 
to have been from the outset successful, and his knowl- 
edge and ability procured him various valuable ap- 
pointments. He was made a Fellow of The College 
of Physicians in 1607. This Royal College of Phys- 
icians was given a grant of incorporation by Henry 
VIII in 15 18, at the intercession of Chambers, Lin- 
acre and Ferdinand Victoria, the King's Physicians, 
it being under the patronage of Cardinal Woolsey. 
The first meetings were held at Linacre's house which 
he bequeathed to the corporation at his death. Un- 
til this College was founded practitioners of medicine 
were licensed to practise by the Bishop of London 
or by the Dean of St. Paul's. 

A few years later Harvey was appointed Physician- 
Extraordinary to King James I, and later yet, after 
the publication of his great treatise and its dedication 
to the King, he was made Physician-in-Ordinary to 
Charles I, whom he attended during the Civil Wars. 

It must have been about 16 15 when Harvey first 
began expounding his views on the circulation of the 
blood, during lectures which were delivered at The 
College of Physicians, but it was not until thirteen 
year§ later, u e., in 1628, that his great work DE 



I 



DISCOVERY OF CIRCULATION 335 

MOTU CORDIS was published In Latin, as was cus- 
tomary among scholars, and at Frankfort-on-the- 
Maln, since that was then the great center of the book 
publishing trade. 

The treatise was dedicated to King Charles I, in a 
manner which to us would seem servile, and yet which 
was according to a custom followed by nearly all of 
the scholars of the day, who desired to attract not 
only the attention of royalty, but, in most instances, 
their benevolent assistance. It Is worth while to quote 
at this point the first sentence or two of his dedication : 

"To the 

Most Serene and Invincible 

CHARLES, 

of Great Britain, France and Ireland, 

KING: DEFENDER of the FAITH, 

Most Serene King, 

"The heart of animals Is the basis of their life, 
the principle of the whole, the Sun of their Micro- 
cosm, that upon which all movement depends, from 
which all strength proceeds. The King in like man- 
ner is the basis of his Kingdom, the Sun of his World, 
the heart of the Commonwealth, whence all power 
derives, all grace appears. What I have here writ- 
ten of the movements of the heart I am the more 
emboldened to present to your Majesty, according to 
the Custom of the present age, because nearly all 
things human are done after human examples and 



336 DISCOVERY OF CIRCULATION 

many things In the King are after the pattern of the 
heart." 

The dedication was followed by a Proemium which 
one may hardly read to-day without emotion. In it 
he sets forth the mystery that has surrounded the sub- 
ject of the motion and function of the heart, as well 
as the attendant difficulties of the subject, speaking 
of his own early despair that he would ever be able to 
clear up the subject. He even said that at one time 
he found the matter so beset with difficulties that he 
was inclined to agree with Fracastorius *'that the 
movements of the heart and their purpose could be 
comprehended by God alone." Only later was this 
despair dispelled by a suggestion when, as he says: 
*'I began to think whether there might not be a move- 
ment in a circle" when thus the truth dawned fully 
upon him. 

We shall have to speak later of the opposition pro- 
voked by the appearance of this work and its almost 
general rejection. It is perhaps, however, but just to 
those who disputed Harvey's discoveries to recall that 
no complete and actual demonstration of the actual 
circulation was possible at that time, nor for many 
years after, and until the introduction of the micro- 
scope, the common magnifying glass of that day be- 
ing the only lens in use. It remained for Malpighi to 
demonstrate the blood actually in circulation in the 
lung of a frog some three or four years after Harvey's 
death, in 1657. But Harvey lived long enough to 
see his views gain general acceptance, and though at 



DISCOVERY OF CIRCULATION 337 

first, and as the result of the opposition provoked by 
his publication, his practice fell off mightily, he later 
regained his professional position and rose to the 
highest eminence, being elected in 1654 to the Presi- 
dency of the College of Physicians. To this institu- 
tion he proved a great benefactor, making consider- 
able additions to the building after its destruction in 
The Great Fire of 1666 and its subsequent restora- 
tion. He also left a certain sum of money as a foun- 
dation for an annual oration, to be delivered in com- 
memoration of those who had been great benefactors 
of the College. This oration is still regularly deliv- 
ered on St. Luke's Day, i. e., the i8th of October, 
and is ordinarily known as the Harveian oration. In 
these orations more or less reference to Harvey's work 
and influence is always made. 

This great man passed away on the 3d of June, 
1657, within ten months of his eightieth birthday, 
thus affording a brilliant exception to the list of men 
who have rendered great service to the world and not 
lived long enough to see it appreciated. 

As one reads Harvey's own words, the wonder ever 
grows that it should have remained for him, after the 
lapse of so many centuries, to not only call attention 
to what had been said by Galen but apparently for- 
gotten by his successors, namely, that *'the arteries 
contained blood and nothing but blood, and, conse- 
quently, neither spirits nor air, as may be readily gath- 
ered from experiments and reasonings," which he 
elsewhere furnishes. He furthermore shows how 



338 DISCOVERY OF CIRCULATION 

Galen demonstrated this by applying two ligatures 
upon an exposed artery at some distance from each 
other, and then opening the vessel itself in which noth- 
ing but blood could be found. He calls attention al- 
so to the result of ligation of one of the large ves- 
sels of an extremity, the inevitable result being just 
what we to-day know it must be, and the procedure 
terminating with gangrene of the limb. 

Not long before Harvey's own publication, Fab- 
ricius, he of Aquapendente, had published a work on 
respiration, stating that, as the pulsation of the heart 
and arteries was insufficient for the ventilation and re- 
frigeration of the blood, therefore were the lungs 
fashioned to surround the heart. Harvey showed how 
the arterial pulse and respiration could not serve the 
same ends, combating the view generally held, that 
if the arteries were filled with air, a larger quantity 
of air penetrating when the pulse is large and full, 
it must come to pass that if one plunge into a bath 
of water or of oil when the pulse is strong and full it 
should forthwith become either smaller or much slow- 
er, since the surrounding fluid would render it either 
difficult or impossible for air to penetrate. He also 
called attention to the inconsistencies between this 
view and the arrangement of the prenatal circulation; 
also to the fact that marine animals, living in the 
depths of the sea, could under no circumstances take 
in or emit air by the movements of their arteries and 
beneath the infinite mass of waters, inasmuch as "to 
say that they absorb the air that is present In the wa- 



DISCOVERY OF CIRCULATION 339 

ter and emit their fumes into this medium, were to 
utter something very like a figment;" furthermore 
*'when the windpipe is divided, air enters and re- 
turns through the wound by two opposite movements, 
but when an artery is divided blood escapes in one 
continuous stream and no air passes/' 

Discussing further the views which he stigmatized 
as so incongruous and mutually subversive that every 
one of them is justly brought under suspicion, he re- 
verts again to the statements of Galen, calling atten- 
tion to the fact that from a single divided artery the 
whole of the blood of the body may be withdrawn in 
the course of half an hour or less, and to the inevita- 
ble consequences of such an act; also that when an ar- 
tery is opened the blood is emptied with force and in 
jets, and that the impulse corresponds with that of the 
heart; again that in an aneurism the pulsation is the 
same as in other arteries, appealing for corroboration 
in this matter to the recent statements of Riolan, who 
later became his avowed enemy. Harvey also called 
attention to the fact that while ordinarily there was a 
seemingly fixed relation between respiration and pulse- 
rate, this might vary very much under certain circum- 
stances, showing that respiration and circulation were 
two totally different processes. Harvey utilized also 
the results of his researches in comparative anatomy 
and physiology, for early in his work he called atten- 
tion to the fact that every animal which is unfurnished 
with lungs lacks a right ventricle. 

In his Proemium he then proceeds to ask certain 



340 DISCOVERY OF CIRCULATION 

very pertinent questions which can only be briefly 
summarized in this place. He asks : First, why, inas- 
much as the structure of both ventricles is practically 
identical, it should be imagined that their uses are 
different, and why, if tricuspid valves are placed at 
the entrance into the right ventricle and prove ob- 
stacles to the return of blood into vena cava, and if 
similar valves are situated at the commencement of 
the pulmonary artery, preventing return of blood into 
the ventricle, then why, when similar valves are found 
in connection with the other side of the heart, should 
we deny that they are there for the same purpose of 
prevention "here the egress" and "there the regurgi- 
tation of the blood?" 

Secondly, he asks why, in view of the similarity of 
these structures, it should be said that things are ar- 
ranged in the left ventricle for the egress and regress 
of spirits, and in the right ventricle for those of 
blood? 

Thirdly, he enquires why, when one notes the re- 
semblance between the passages and vessels connect- 
ed with the opposite sides of the heart, one should re- 
gard one side as destined to a private purpose, name- 
ly, that of nourishing the lungs, the other to a more 
public function? Furthermore, he enquires, since 
the lungs are so near, and in continual movement, and 
the vessels supplying them of such dimensions, what 
can be the use of the pulse of the right ventricle, 
which he had often observed in the course of his ex- 
periments? He sums up his inability to accept the 



DISCOVERY OF CIRCULATION 341 

explanations previously offered with a phrase which 
reads rather strangely, even in original Latin: "Deus 
bone! Quomodo tricuspides impediunt aeris egres- 
sum, non sanguinis." i. e., "Good God! how should 
the mitral valves prevent the regurgitation of air 
and not of blood?" 

He then takes up the views of those who have 
believed that the blood oozed through the septum of 
the heart from the right to the left side by certain se- 
cret pores, and to them he replied "By Hercules, no 
such pores can be demonstrated, nor, in fact, do any 
such exist." Again, "Besides, if the blood could 
permeate the substance of the septum, or could be 
emptied from the ventricles, what use were there for 
the coronary artery and vein, branches of which pro- 
ceed to the septum itself, to supply it with nourish- 
ment?" 

Further on in the treatise Harvey sets forth his mo- 
tives for writing, stating how greatly unsettled had 
become his mind in that he did not know what he 
himself should conclude nor what to believe from oth- 
ers. He says: "I was not surprised that Laurentius 
should have written that the movements of the heart 
were as perplexing as the flux and reflux of Euripus 
had appeared to Aristotle." He apologizes for the 
crime, as some of his friends considered it, that he 
should dare to depart from the precepts and opinions 
of all anatomists. He acknowledged that he took the 
step all the more willingly, seeing that Fabricius, who 
had accurately and learnedly delineated almost every 



342 DISCOVERY OF CIRCULATION 

one of the several parts of animals in a special work, 
had left the heart entirely untouched. 

Passing more directly to the actual work of the 
heart, he shows that not only are the ventricles con- 
tracted by virtue of the muscular structure of their 
own walls, but further that those fibers or bands, 
styled ''Nerves" by Aristotle, that are so conspicuous 
in the ventricles of larger animals when they contract 
simultaneously, by an admirable adjustment, help to 
draw together all the internal surfaces as if with 
cords, thus expelling the charge of contained blood 
with force. Later on he says that if the pulmonary 
artery be opened, blood will be seen spurting forth 
from it, just as when any other artery is punctured, 
and that the same result follows division of the ves- 
sel which in fishes leads from the heart. He furnishes 
a very happy simile to prove that the pulses of the 
arteries are due to the impulses of the left ventricle 
by showing how, when one blows into a glove all 
of its fingers will be found to have become distended 
at one and the same time. He quotes Aristotle, who 
made no distinction between veins and arteries, but 
said that the blood of all animals palpitates within 
their vessels and by the pulse is sent everywhere sim- 
ultaneously, all of this depending upon the heart. 

It is in Chapter Five of the treatise that he gives, 
probably for the first time, an accurate published ac- 
count of just what transpires with one complete cycle 
of cardiac activity. The passage need not be quoted 
here, but deserves to be read by everyone interested in 



DISCOVERY OF CIRCULATION 343 

the subject, as who should not be? One sentence, 
however, is worth quotation or, at least, a summary, 
as follows: "But if the divine Galen will here al- 
low, as in other places he does, that all the arteries of 
the body arise from the great artery, and that this 
takes its origin from the heart; that all the vessels 
naturally contain and carry blood; that the three 
semilunar valves situated at the orifice of the aorta 
prevent the return of the blood into the heart, and 
that they were here for some important purpose, — I 
do not see how he can deny that the great artery is the 
very vessel to carry the blood, when it has attained 
its highest triumph of perfection, from the heart for 
distribution to all parts of the body." 

His Chapter Six deals with the course by which 
blood is carried from the right into the left ventricle, 
and here one must admire the large number of ex- 
perimental demonstrations which Harvey had under- 
taken upon all classes of animals, for he speaks even 
of that which occurs in small insects, whose circulation 
he had studied so far as he could with the simple 
lens. Furthermore he described the prenatal circula- 
tion, omitting practically nothing of that which is 
taught to-day, showing that in embryos, while the 
lungs are yet in a state of inaction, both ventricles of 
the heart are employed, as if they were but one, for 
the transmission of blood. In concluding this chap- 
ter he again states briefly the course of the blood, and 
promises to show, first, that this may be so and, then, 
to prove that it really is so. 



344 DISCOVERY OF CIRCULATION 

His Chapter Seven is devoted to showing how the 
blood passes through the substance of the lungs from 
the right ventricle and then on into the pulmonary 
vein and left ventricle. He alludes to the multitude 
of doubters as belonging, as the poet had said, to that 
race of men who, when they will, assent full readily, 
and when they will not, by no matter of means ; who, 
when their assent is wanted, fear, and when it is not, 
fear not to give it. A little later on he says: "As 
there are some who admit nothing unless upon au- 
thority, let them learn that the truth I am contending 
for can be confirmed from Galen's own words, name- 
ly, that not only may the blood be transmitted from 
the pulmonary artery into the pulmonary veins and 
then into the left ventricle of the heart, but that this 
is effected by the ceaseless pulsation of the heart and 
the movements of the lungs in breathing." He then 
shows how Galen explained the uses of the valves 
and the necessity for their existence, as well as the uni- 
versal mutual anastomosis of the arteries with the 
veins, and that the heart is incessantly receiving and 
expelling blood by and from its ventricles, for which 
purpose it is furnished with four sets of valves, two 
for escape and two for inlet and their regulation. 

Harvey then noted a well-known clinical fact, that 
the more frequent or forcible the pulsations, the more 
speedily might the body be deprived of its blood dur- 
ing hemorrhage, and that it thus happens that in faint- 
ing fits and the like, when the heart beats more 
languidly, hemorrhages are diminished and arrested. 



DISCOVERY OF CIRCULATION 345 

The balance of the book is practically devoted to 
further demonstration and corroboration of state- 
ments already made. A study of this work of Har- 
vey's illustrates how much respect even he and his 
contemporaries still showed for the authority of Ga- 
len. It shows still further how nearly Galen came to 
the actual truth concerning the circulation. Had the 
latter not adopted too many of the notions of his pre- 
decessors concerning the nature of the soul (Anima) 
and the spirits (Pneuma) of man, he might himself 
have anticipated Harvey by a thousand years, and by 
such announcement of a great truth have set forward 
physiology by an equal period. Independent and 
original as Harvey showed himself, he seems to have 
failed to get away from the notion of the vapors and 
spiritual nature of the blood which he had inherited 
from the writings of Galen and many others. Nev- 
ertheless he also alludes to this same blood as alimen- 
tive and nutritive. We must not forget, however, 
that this was years before Priestly's discovery of oxy- 
gen and that Harvey had, like others, no notion of the 
actual purpose of the lungs, believing that the purifi- 
cation and revivification of the blood was the office 
of the heart itself. 

Along with its other intrinsic merits Harvey's book 
possesses a clear and logical arrangement, the author 
first disposing of the errors of antiquity, describing 
next the behavior of the heart in the living animal, 
showing its automatic pumplike structure, its alter- 
nate contractions and the other phenomena already 



346 DISCOVERY OF CIRCULATION 

alluded to, thus piling up facts one upon another in a 
manner which proved quite irresistible. The only 
thing that he missed was the ultimate connection be- 
tween the veins and the arteries, i. e., the capillaries, 
which it remained for Malpighi to discover with the 
then new and novel microscope, which he did about 
1657, showing the movement of the blood cells in 
the small vessels, and confirming the reality of that 
ultimate communication which had been held to exist. 
Malpighi discovered the blood corpuscles in 1665, 
but it remained for Leeuwenhoek, of Delft, in 1690, 
by using an improved instrument to demonstrate to 
all observers the actual movements of the circulating 
blood in the living animal. One historian has said 
that with Harvey's overthrow of the old teachings re- 
garding the importance of the liver and of the spirits 
in the heart "fell the four fundamental humors and 
qualities" while Daremberg exclaims: "As in one of 
the days of the creation, chaos disappeared and light 
was separated from darkness." 

It remains now only to briefly consider how Har- 
vey's great discovery was received. To quote the 
words of one writer: "So much care and circum- 
spection in search for truth, so much modesty and 
firmness in its demonstration, so much clearness and 
method in the development of his ideas, should have 
prepossessed everyone in favor of the theory of Har- 
vey; on the contrary, it caused a general stupefac- 
tion in the medical world and gave rise to great oppo- 
sition." 



DISCOVERY OF CIRCULATION 347 

During the quarter of a century which elapsed af- 
ter Harvey's announcement there probably was not 
an anatomist nor physiologist of any prominence who 
did not take active part in the controversy engen- 
dered by it; even the philosopher Descartes was one 
of the first adherents of the doctrine of the circula- 
tion, which he corroborated by experiments of his 
own. 

Two years after the appearance of Harvey^s book 
appeared an attack, composed in fourteen days by 
one Primerose, a man of Scotch descent, born and edu- 
cated In France, but practising at Hull, in which he 
pronounced the impossibilities of surpassing the an- 
cients or improving on the work of Riolan, who al- 
ready had written in opposition to Harvey, and who 
was the only one to whom the latter vouchsafed an 
answer. It was Riolan who procured a decree of the 
Faculty of Paris prohibiting the teaching of Harvey's 
doctrine. It was this same Riolan who combated 
with equal violence and obstinacy the other great dis- 
covery of the age, namely, — the circulation of the 
lymph. 

One of the earliest and fiercest adversaries of Har- 
vey's theory was Plempius, of Louvaine, who, how- 
ever, gave way to the force of argument and who 
finally publicly and voluntarily passed over to the 
ranks of its defenders in 1652, becoming one of Har- 
vey's most enthusiastic advocates. 

Harvey's conduct through the controversy was al- 
ways of the most dignified character; In fact, he rare- 



348 DISCOVERY OF CIRCULATION 

ly ventured to reply in any way to his adversaries, be- 
lieving in the ultimate triumph of the truths which 
he had enunciated. His only noteworthy reply was 
one addressed to Riolan, then Professor in the Paris 
Facult}^ and one of the greatest anatomists of his age, 
to whose opinion great value was always attached. 
Even in debating or arguing against him, Harvey al- 
ways spoke of him with great deference, calling him 
repeatedly The Prince of Science. Riolan was, how- 
ever, never converted, though whether he held to his 
previous position from obstinacy, from excess of re- 
spect for the ancients, or from envy and jealousy of 
his contemporary^ is not known. 

Another peculiar spectacle was afforded by one 
Parisunus, who died in 1643, ^ physician in Venice, 
who, like Harvey, had been a pupil of Fabricius of 
Aquapendente, who had been stigmatized by Riolan 
as an ignoramus in anatomy, but who joined with oth- 
ers in declaring that he had seen the heart beat when 
perfectly bloodless, and that no beating of the heart 
and no sounds were to be heard as Harvey had af- 
firmed. 

With the later and more minute studies into the 
structure and function of the heart we are not here 
concerned. The endeavor has been rather to place 
before you the sentiments, the knowledge and the hab- 
its of thought of the men of Harv^ey's time, with the 
briefest possible epitome of what they knew, or rather 
of how little they knew, to account for this later slav- 
ish adherence to authority by unwillingness to rea- 



DISCOVERY OF CIRCULATION 349 

son Independently, or to observe natural phenomena 
intelligently, still less to experiment with them. It Is, 
then, rather the brief history of an epochal discovery 
than an effort to trace out Its far-reaching conse- 
quences that I have endeavored to give. 

Here must close an account which perhaps has been 
to you tedious, and yet which Is really brief, of Har- 
vey's life and labors. He lived to see his views gen- 
erally accepted and to enjoy his own triumph, a pleas- 
ure not attained by many great Inventors or discov- 
erers. Lessons of great Importance may be gathered 
from a more careful study of this great historical 
epoch, but they must be left to your own powers of 
reasoning rather than to what I may add here. I 
commend It to you as a fertile source of Inspiration, 
and a line of research worthy of both admiration and 
imitation. Few men have rendered greater service 
to the world by the shedding of blood than did Har- 
vey, in his innocent and wonderful studies of Its 
natural movement. Perhaps It might be said of him 
that he was the first man to show that "blood will 
tell." What he made it tell has been thus briefly told 
to you. 

I know not how I may better close this account than 
by quoting the concluding words of his famous book, 
and especially repeating the lines which he has quoted 
from some Latin author whom I have not been able 
to identify. His paragraph and his quotation are as 
follows : 

"Finally, if any use or benefit to this department of 



350 DISCOVERY OF CIRCULATION 

the republic of letters should accrue from my labors, 
it will, perhaps, be allowed that I have not lived idly, 
and, as the old man in the comedy says : 

'For never yet hath anyone attained 

To such perfection, but that time, and place, 

And use, have brought addition to his knowledge; 

Or made correction, or admonished him, 

That he was ignorant of much which he 

Had thought he knew ; or led him to reject 

What he had once esteemed of highest price.' *' 



I. 



XIII 

HISTORY OF ANAESTHESIA AND THE IN- 
TRODUCTION OF ANAESTHETICS IN 
SURGERY* 

IN COMMEMORATION OF THE SEMI-CENTENNIAL OF 

THE INTRODUCTION OF ETHER AS AN 

ANAESTHETIC AGENT 

FIFTY years ago to-day — that is to say, on 
the 1 6th of October, 1846, — there occurred 
an event which marks as distinct a step in 
human progress as almost any that could be 
named by the erudite historian. I refer to the first 
demonstration of the possibility of alleviating pain 
during surgical operations. Had this been the date 
of a terrible battle, on land or sea, with mutual 
destruction of thousands of human beings, the date 
itself would have been signalized in literature and 
would have been impressed upon the memory of every 
schoolboy, while the names of the great military mur- 
derers who commanded the opposing armies would 
have been emblasoned upon monuments and the pages 
of history. But this event was merely the conquest 
of pain and the alleviation of human suffering, and 
no one who has ever served his race by contributing 



*Commemorative Address delivered at the Medical Depart- 
ment, University of Buffalo, October 16, 1896. 

351 



352 ANAESTHETICS IN SURGERY 

to either of these results has been remembered be- 
yond his own generation or outside the circle of his 
immediate influence. Such is the irony of fate. The 
world erects imposing monuments or builds tombs, 
like that of Napoleon, to the memory of those who 
have been the greatest destroyers of their race; and 
so Caesar, Hannibal, Genghis Khan, Richard the 
Lion-hearted, Gustavus Vasa, Napoleon and hun- 
dreds of other great military murderers have received 
vastly more attention, because of their race-destroying 
propensities and abilities, than if they had ever ful- 
filled fate in any other capacity. But the men like Sir 
Spencer Wells, who has added his 40,000 years of 
life to the total of human longevity, or like Sir Jo- 
seph Lister, who has shown our profession how to 
conquer that arch enemy of time past, surgical sepsis, 
or like Morton, who first publicly demonstrated how 
to bring on a safe and temporary condition of insen- 
sibility to pain, are men more worthy In our eyes of 
lasting fame, and much greater heroes of their times, 
and of all time, — ^yet are practically unknown to the 
world at large, to whom they have ministered in such 
an unmistakable and superior way. 

This much, then, by way of preface and reason 
for commemorating in this public way the semi-cen- 
tennial of this really great event. Because the world 
does scant honor to these men we should be all the 
more mindful of their services, and all the more in- 
sistent upon their public recognition. 

Of all the achievements of the Anglo-Saxon race, 



ANAESTHETICS IN SURGERY 353 

I hold It true that the two greatest and most benefi- 
cent were the discovery of ether and the introduction 
of antiseptic methods, — one of which we owe to an 
American, the other to a Briton. 

The production of deep sleep and the usual ac- 
companying abolition of pain have been subjects which 
have ever appeared, in some form, in myth or fable, 
and to which poets of all times have alluded, usually 
with poetic license. One of the most popular of these 
fables connects the famous oracle of Apollo, at Del- 
phi, whence proceeded mysterious utterances and in- 
choate sounds, with convulsions, delirium and insensi- 
bility upon the part of those who approached it. To 
what extent there is a basis of fact in this tradition 
can never be explained, but it is not improbable from 
what we now know of hypnotic influence. 

From all time it has been known that many dif- 
ferent plants and herbs contained principles which 
were narcotic, stupefying or intoxicating. These prop- 
erties have especially been ascribed to the juices of the 
poppy, the deadly nightshade, henbane, the Indian 
hemp and the mandragora, which for us now is the 
true mandrake, whose juice has long been known as 
possessing soporific influence. Ulysses and his com- 
panions succumbed to the influence of Nepenthe; 
and, nineteen hundred years ago, when crucifixion was 
a common punishment of malefactors, it was custom- 
ary to assuage their last hours upon the cross by a 
draught of vinegar with gall or myrrh, which had real 
or supposititious narcotic properties. Even the prophet 



354 ANAESTHETICS IN SURGERY 

Amos, seven hundred years before the time of Christ, 
spoke of such a mixture as this as "the wine of the 
condemned," for he says, in rehearsing the iniquities 
of Israel by which they had incurred the anger of the 
Almighty: "And they lay themselves down upon 
the clothes laid to pledge by every altar, and they 
drink the wine of the condemned in the house of their 
God," (Chap. II, verse 8), meaning thereby un- 
doubtedly that these people, in their completely 
demoralized condition, drank the soporific draught 
kept for criminals. Herodotus mentions a hab- 
it of the Scythians, who employed a vapor 
generated from the seed of the hemp for 
the purpose of producing an intoxication by in- 
halation. Narcotic lotions were also used for bathing 
the people about to be operated upon. Pliny, who 
perished at the destruction of Herculaneum, A. D. 
79, testified to the soporific power of the preparations 
made from mandragora upon the faculties of those 
who drank it. He says: "It is drunk against ser- 
pents and before cuttings and puncturings, lest they 
should be felt." He also describes the indifference to 
pain produced by drinking a vinous infusion of the 
seeds of eruca, called by us the rocket, upon criminals 
about to undergo punishment. Dioscorides relates of 
mandragora that "some boil down the roots in wine 
to a third part, and preserve the juice thus procured, 
and give one cyathus of this to cause the insensibility 
of those who are about to be cut or cauterized." One 
of his later commentators also states that wine in 



ANAESTHETICS IN SURGERY 355 

which mandragora roots have been steeped "does 
bring on sleep and appease pain, so that it is given 
to those who are to be cut, sawed or burnt in any 
parts of their body, that they may not perceive pain." 
Apuleius, about a century later than Pliny, advised 
the use of the same preparation. The Chinese, in the 
earlier part of the century, gave patients preparations 
of hemp, by which they became completely insensible 
and were operated upon in many ways. This hemp 
is the cannabis Indica which furnishes the Hasheesh 
of the Orient and the intoxicating and deliriating 
Bhang, about which travelers in the East used to 
write so much. In Barbara, for instance, it was al- 
ways taken, if possible, by criminals condemned to 
suffer mutilation or death. 

According to the testimony of medieval writers, 
knowledge of these narcotic drugs was practically ap- 
plied during the last of the Crusades, the probability 
being that the agent principally employed was this 
same hasheesh. Hugo di Lucca gave a complete 
formula for the preparation of the mixture, with 
which a sponge was to be saturated, dried, and then, 
when wanted, was to be soaked in warm water, and 
afterward applied to the nostrils, until he who was to 
be operated upon had fallen asleep; after which he 
was aroused with the vapor of vinegar. 

Strangely enough, the numerous means of attaining 
insensibility, then more or less known to the common 
people, and especially to criminals and executioners, 
do not appear to have found favor for use during op- 



356 ANAESTHETICS IN SURGERY 

erations. Whether this was due to unpleasant after- 
effects, or from what reason, we are not informed. 
Only one or two surgical writers beside Guy de Chau- 
liac (1498) refer in their works to agents for relief 
of pain, and then almost always to their unpleasant 
effects, the danger of producing asphyxiation, and 
the like. Ambrose Pare wrote that preparations of 
mandragora were formerly used to avert pain. In 
1579, an English surgeon, BuUeyn, affirmed that it 
was possible to put the patient into an anaesthetic state 
during the operation of lithotomy, but spoke of it as 
a "terrible dream." One Meisner spoke of a secret 
remedy used by Weiss, about the end of the XVII 
Century, upon Augustus II., king of Poland, who pro- 
duced therewith such perfect insensibility to pain that 
an amputation of the royal foot was made without 
suffering, even without royal consent. The advice 
which the Friar gave Juliet regarding the distilled 
liquor which she was to drink, and which should pres- 
ently throw her into a cold and drowsy humor, al- 
though a poetic generality, is Shakespeare's recogni- 
tion of a popular belief. Middleton, a tragic writer 
of Shakespeare's day, in his tragedy known as "Wom- 
en beware Women," refers in the following terms to 
anesthesia in surgery: 

"I'll imitate the pities of old surgeons 
To this lost limb, who, ere they show their art, 
Cast one asleep; then cut the diseased part." 

Of course, of all the narcotics in use by educated 



ANAESTHETICS IN SURGERY 357 

men, opium has been, since its discovery and introduc- 
tion, the most popular and generally used. Surgeons 
of the last century were accustomed to administer 
large doses of it shortly before an operation, which, 
if serious, was rarely performed until the opiate effect 
was manifested. Still, in view of its many unpleasant 
after-effects, its use was restricted, so far as possible, 
to extreme cases. 

Baron Larrey, noticing the benumbing effect of cold 
upon wounded soldiers, suggested its introduction for 
anesthetic purposes, and Arnott, of- London, systema- 
tized the practice, by recommending a freezing mix- 
ture of ice and salt to be laid directly upon the part 
to be cut. Other surgeons were accustomed to put their 
patients Into a condition of either alcoholic intoxica- 
tion or alcoholic stupor. Long-continued compres- 
sion of a part was also practised by some, by which a 
limb could, as we say, be made to "go to sleep." A 
few others recommended to produce falntness by ex- 
cessive bleeding. It was In 1776 that the arch-fraud 
Mesmer entered Paris and began to Initiate people in- 
to the mysteries of what he called animal magnetism, 
which was soon named mesmerism, after him. Thor- 
oughly degenerate and disreputable as he was, he 
nevertheless taught people some new truths, which 
many of them learned to their sorrow, while In the 
hospitals of France and England severe operations 
were performed upon patients thrown into a mes- 
meric trance, and without suffering upon their part. 
That a scientific study of the mesmeric phenomena 



358 ANAESTHETICS IN SURGERY 

has occupied the attention of eminent men in recent 
years, and that hypnotism is now recognized as an 
agent often capable of producing insensibility to pain 
is simply true, as these facts have been turned to the 
real benefit of man by scientific students rather than 
by quacks and charlatans. 

In 1799, Sir Humphrey Davey, being at that time 
an assistant in the private hospital of Dr. Beddoes, 
which was established for treatment of disease by in- 
halation of gases, and which he called The Pneumatic 
Institute, began experimenting with nitrous oxide 
gas, and noticed its exhilarating and intoxicating ef- 
fects; also the relief from pain which it afforded in 
headache and toothache. As the results of his re- 
ports, a knowledge of its properties was diffused all 
over the world, and it was utilized both for amuse- 
ment and exhibition purposes. Davey even wrote as 
follows of this gas: 

As nitrous oxide, in its extensive operation, ap- 
pears capable of destroying physical pain, it may prob- 
ably be used with advantage during surgical opera- 
tions in which no great effusion of blood takes place. 

It is not at all unlikely that Colton and Wells, to 
be soon referred to, derived encouragement, if not In- 
centive, from these statements of Davey. Neverthe- 
less, Velpeau, perhaps the greatest French surgeon 
of his day, wrote In 1839, that "to escape pain In 
surgical operations Is a chimera which we are not 
permitted to look for In our day." 

Sulphuric ether, as a chemical compound, was 



ANAESTHETICS IN SURGERY 359 

known from the XIII Century, for reference was 
made to It by Raymond Lully. It was first spoken of 
by the name of ether by Godfrey, in the Transactions 
of the London Royal Society, in 1730, while Isaac 
Newton spoke of it as the ethereal spirits of wine. Dur- 
ing all of the previous century it was known as a drug, 
and allusion to its inhalation was made in 1795 in 
a pamphlet, probably by Pearson. Beddoes, in 1796, 
stated that "it gives almost immediate relief, both to 
the oppression and pain in the chest, in cases of pec- 
toral catarrh." In 18 15, Nysten spoke of inhalation 
of ether as being common treatment for mitigating 
pain in colic, and in 1 8 1 6 he described an inhaler for 
its use. As early as 18 12 it was often inhaled for 
experiment or amusement, and so-called "ether frol- 
ics" were common in various parts of the country. 
This was true, particularly for our purpose, of the 
students of Cambridge, and of the common people in 
Georgia in the vicinity of Long's home. It probably 
is for this reason that a host of claimants for the hon- 
or of the discovery appeared so soon as the true 
anesthetic properties of the drug were demonstrated. 

There probably is every reason to think that, either 
by accident or design, a condition of greater or less 
insensibility to pain had been produced between 1820 
and 1846, by a number of different people, educated 
and ignorant, but that no one had the originality or 
the hardihood to push these investigations to the point 
of determining the real usefulness of ether. This 
was partly from ignorance, partly from fear, and 



36o ANAESTHETICS IN SURGERY 

partly because of the generally accepted impossibility 
of producing safe insensibility to pain. So, while in- 
dependent claims sprang up from various sources, 
made by aspirants for honors in this direction, it is 
undoubtedly as properly due to Morton to credit him 
with the introduction of this agent as an anesthetic as 
to credit Columbus with the discovery of the New 
World, in spite of certain evidences that some por- 
tions of the American continent had been touched 
upon by adventurous voyagers before Columbus ever 
saw it. 

The noun "anesthesia" and the adjective "anesthet- 
ic" were suggestions of Dr. Oliver Wendell Holmes, 
who early proposed their use to Dr. Morton in a let- 
ter which is still preserved. He suggests them with 
becoming modesty, advises Dr. Morton to consult 
others before adopting them, but, nevertheless, states 
that he thinks them apt for that purpose. The word 
anesthesia, therefore, is just about of the same age as 
the condition itself, and it, too, deserves commemora- 
tion upon this occasion. 

As one reads the history of anesthesia, which has 
been written up by a number of different authors, 
each, for the main part, having some particular ob- 
ject in view, or some particular friend whose claims 
he wishes especially to advocate, he may find men- 
tioned at least a dozen different names of men who 
are supposed to have had more or less to do with 
this eventful discovery. But, for all practical pur- 
poses, one may reduce the list of claimants for the 



ANAESTHETICS IN SURGERY 361 

honor to four men, each of whose claims I propose 
to briefly discuss. These men were Long, Wells, 
Jackson and Morton. Of these four, two were dent- 
ists and two practising physicians, to whom fate seems 
to have been unkind, as it often is, since three of them 
at least died a violent or distressing death, while the 
fourth lived to a ripe old age, harassed at almost 
every turn by those who sought to decry his reputa- 
tion or injure his fortunes. 

Crawford W. Long was born in Danlelsville, Ga., 
in 18 16. In 1839 he graduated from the Medical 
Department of the University of Pennslyvania. In 
the part of the country where Long settled it was a 
quite common occurrence to have what were known 
as "ether frolics" at social gatherings, ether being ad- 
ministered to various persons to the point of exhila- 
ration, which in some instances was practically un- 
controllable. Long's friends claim that he had often 
noticed that when the ether effect was pushed to this 
extent the subjects of the frolic became oblivious to 
minor injuries, and that these facts, often noticed, 
suggested to his mind the use of ether in surgical op- 
erations. There is good evidence to show that Long 
first administered ether for this purpose on the 30th 
of March, 1842, and that on June 6th he repeated 
this performance upon the same patient; that in July 
he amputated a toe for a negro boy, but that the 
fourth operation was not performed until September 
of 1843. ^^ 1844 a young man, named Wilhite, who 
had helped to put a colored boy to sleep at an ether 



362 ANAESTHETICS IN SURGERY 

frolic in 1839, became a student of Dr. Long's, to 
whom Long related his previous experiences. Long 
had never heard of Wilhite's episode, but had only 
one opportunity, in 1845, to ^^y it, again upon a negro 
boy. Long lived at such a distance from railroad 
communication (130 miles) as to have few advant- 
ages, either of practice, observation or access to liter- 
ature. Long made no public mention of his use of 
ether until 1849, when he published An Account of 
the First Use of Sulphuric Ether by Inhalation as an 
Anesthetic in Surgical Operations, stating that he first 
read of Morton's experiments in an editorial in the 
Medical Examiner of December, 1846, and again 
later; on reading which articles he determined to 
wait before publishing any account of his own dis- 
covery, to see whether anyone else would present a 
prior claim. No special attention was paid to Long's 
article, as it seemed that he merely desired to place 
himself on record. There is little, probably no rea- 
sonable doubt as to Long's priority in the use of 
ether as an anesthetic, although it is very doubtful 
if he carried it, at least at first, to its full extent. 
Nevertheless Long was an isolated observer, working 
entirely by himself, having certainly no opportunity 
and apparently little ambition to announce his discov- 
ery, and having no share In the events by which the 
value of ether was made known to the world. Long's 
strongest advocate was the late Dr. Marion Sims, 
who made a strong plea for his friend, and yet was 
not able to successfully establish anything more than 



ANAESTHETICS IN SURGERY 363 

has just been stated. As Dr. Morton's son, Dr. W. 
J. Morton, of New York, says, when writing of his 
father's claim : "Men used steam to propel boats be- 
fore Fuller; electricity to convey messages before 
Morse; vaccine virus to avert smallpox before Jen- 
ner; and ether to annul pain before Morton." 

But these men are not generally credited with their 
introduction by the world at large and, he argues, 
neither should Long or the other contestants be given 
the credit due Morton himself. In fact. Long writes 
of his own work that the result of his second experi- 
ment was such as to make him conclude that ether 
would only be applicable in cases where its effects 
could be kept up by constant use ; in other words, that 
the anesthetic state was of such short duration that it 
was to him most unsatisfactory. Sir James Paget 
has summed up the relative claims of our four con- 
testants in an article entitled Escape from Pain, pub- 
lished in the Nineteenth Century for December, 1879. 
He says : 

"While Long waited, and Wells turned back, and 
Jackson was thinking, and those to whom they had 
talked were neither acting nor thinking, Morton, the 
practical man, went to work and worked resolutely. 
He gave ether successfully in severe surgical opera- 
tions; he loudly proclaimed his deeds and he com- 
pelled mankind to hear him." 

Horace Wells was born in Hartford, Vt., in 18 15. 
In 1834 he began to study dentistry in Boston, and 
after completing his studies began to practise in Hart- 



364 ANAESTHETICS IN SURGERY 

ford, Ct. He was a man of no small ingenuity, and 
devised many novelties for his work. In December, 
1844, he listened to a lecture delivered by Dr. Col- 
ton, who took for his subject nitrous oxide gas, the 
amusing effects of which he demonstrated to his au- 
dience upon a number of persons who visited the plat- 
form for that purpose. Wells was one of these. 
Wells, moreover, noticed that another young man, 
who bruised himself while under its influence, said 
afterward that he had not hurt himself at all. Wells 
then stated to a bystander that he thought that if one 
took enough of that kind of gas he could have a tooth 
extracted and not feel it. He at once called upon a 
neighboring dentist friend and made arrangements to 
test the anesthetic effects of the gas upon himself the 
next morning. Accordingly Colton gave him the gas, 
and Riggs, the friend, extracted the tooth ; and Wells, 
returning to consciousness, assured them both that he 
had not suffered a particle of pain. He began at once 
to construct an apparatus for its manufacture. Dr. 
Marcey, of Hartford, then informed Wells that while 
a student at Amherst he and others had often inhaled 
nitrous oxide as well as the vapor of ether, for amuse- 
ment, and suggested to Wells to try ether. After a 
few trials, however, it was found more difficult to 
administer, and Wells acordingly resolved to adhere 
to gas alone. This was in 1844, two years after 
Long's obscure experiments, of which, of course, 
they were ignorant. In 1845, Wells visited Boston 
for the purpose of introducing his discovery, and 



ANAESTHETICS IN SURGERY 365 

among others called upon his former partner, Mor- 
ton, trying to establish the use of the gas. He soon 
became discouraged, however, and returned to Hart- 
ford, resuming his practice. There he continued to 
use gas for about two years, but failed to secure its 
Introduction Into general surgery, owing to prejudice 
and ignorance on the part of dentists and physicians 
alike. 

Wells's claims have been advocated by many of 
his fellow-citizens, and in Bushnell Park, In Hart- 
ford, stands a monument erected by the city and the 
state, dedicated to Horace Wells, "who discovered 
anesthesia, November, 1844.'' 

C. T. Jackson was born in Plymouth, Mass., in 
1805. He graduated In the Harvard Medical School 
In 1829, after which he went abroad, where he re- 
mained for several years, made the acquaintance of 
the most distinguished men, experimented in general 
science, electricity and magnetism and even devised a 
telegraphic apparatus, similar to that which Morse 
patented a year later. Returning, in 1835, he opened 
in Boston a laboratory for instruction in analytical 
chemistry, the first of Its kind in the country. He al- 
so made quite a reputation as a geologist and min- 
eralogist and received official appointments from 
Maine, Rhode Island, New Hampshire and other 
states. In 1845 he discovered and opened up copper 
and iron mines in the Lake Superior district. In 
1846 and 1847 he was much aroused by Morton's 
experiments with sulphuric ether, and claimed even 



366 ANAESTHETICS IN SURGERY 

that he had suggested the use of ether to Morton, 
claiming also that he had himself been relieved of an 
acute distress by inhalation of ether vapor, and that 
it was from reflection on the phenomena presented 
in his own case that the possibility of its use for relief 
of pain during surgical operations suggested itself to 
him. This led to a triangular conflict for the priority 
of discovery between Wells, Jackson and Morton, 
each claiming the honor for himself. Well's health 
soon gave way. He went abroad and got recognition 
from the French Institute and the Paris Academy of 
Sciences, which did not, however, endorse his claim 
as discoverer nor accept nitrous oxide as an anesthetic. 
Wells returned to find that Morton was on the tide 
of popular favor, the public having endorsed ether 
as the only reliable anesthetic. His mind became un- 
balanced, and in a fit of temporary aberration he 
ended his own life in a prison cell, in New York city 
in 1848. 

Wells being out of the way, Jackson became Mor- 
ton's most violent opponent, and the two indulged 
in a most bitter fight and unseemly discussion. A few 
years later, Jackson, who, as remarked, had an ex- 
tensive acquaintance abroad, visited Europe and pre- 
sented his claim to the credit of the discovery of 
ether before various individuals and learned bodies, 
and so well did he work upon the French Institute as 
to be recognized as the discoverer of modern anes- 
thesia. A select committee of the House of Repre- 
setatives, to whom in 1854 Congress referred the 



ANAESTHETICS IN SURGERY 367 

matter, announced the following conclusions : 

"First, that Dr. Horace Wells did not make any 
discovery of the anesthetic properties of the vapor of 
ether which he himself considered reliable and which 
he thought proper to give to the world. That his 
experiments were confined to nitrous oxide, but did 
not show it to be an efficient and reliable anestheic 
agent. . . . 

"Second, that Dr. Charles T. Jackson does not 
appear at any time to have made any discovery In 
regard to ether which was not in print in Great 
Britain some years before. 

"Fifth, that the whole agency of Dr. Jackson in 
the matter appears to consist entirely in his having 
made certain suggestions to aid Dr. Morton to make 
the discovery.'* 

In 1873, Jackson's mind gave way, and after sev- 
en years of confinement In an asylum he died in 1880, 
at the age of 75, having been the recipient of many 
honors from foreign potentates and learned societies. 

William T. G. Morton was born In Charleston, 
Mass., in 18 19. After a disastrous experience in bus- 
iness he was sent to Baltimore In 1 840 and began the 
study of dentistry. In 1841 he entered the dental 
office of Horace Wells as student and assistant, be- 
coming a partner in 1842. In 1843 ^^e partnership 
was dissolved, Wells removing to Hartford, as be- 
fore stated. Morton, ambitious for a medical degree, 
entered his name as a student in the office of Charles 



368 ANAESTHETICS IN SURGERY 

T. Jackson, In 1844, and the same year matriculated 
in the Harvard Medical School, though he never 
graduated. Having learned through Wells of the 
latter's successful use of nitrous oxide gas, but not 
knowing how to make it, he sought the advice of Dr. 
Jackson, who informed him that its preparation en- 
tailed considerable difficulty, and inquired for what 
purpose he wanted it. On Morton's replying that he 
wished to use it to make patients Insensible to pain, 
Jackson suggested the use of sulphuric ether, as Mar- 
cey had suggested It to Wells two years previously, 
saying that It would produce the same effect and did 
not require any apparatus. Jackson also told Morton 
of the ether frolics common at Cambridge among the 
students. That same evening, September 30, 1846, 
Morton administered ether to a patient and extracted 
a tooth for him without pain. The next day he visit- 
ed the office of a patent lawyer, for the purpose of 
securing a patent upon the new discovery. This 
lawyer ascertained that Jackson had been Intimately 
connected with its suggestion, and came to the con- 
clusion that a patent could not safely Issue to either 
one Independently of the other. But Jackson being 
a member of the State Medical Society, against whose 
ethical code It is to patent discoveries that pertain to 
the welfare of patients, and fearing the censure of his 
colleagues, agreed at once to assign his right over 
to Morton, receiving in return a 10 per cent, commis- 
sion upon all that the latter made out of it. Morton, 
as a dentist, having no more compunction then than 



ANAESTHETICS IN SURGERY 369 

dentists have now upon the securement of a patent, 
— in other words, being actuated by no fine ethical 
scruples, — secured the patent, and then called upon 
Dr. J. Mason Warren, one of the surgeons in the 
Massachusetts General Hospital. Warren promised 
his cooperation and appointed the i6th of October, 
1846, for the first public trial. Upon this occasion 
the clinic room was filled with visitors and students, 
when Morton placed the young man under the influ- 
ence of his "letheon," as he called it then; after which 
Warren removed a tumor from his neck. The trial 
was most successful. Another took place on the fol- 
lowing day, and on November 7th an amputation and 
an excision of the jaw were made, both patients be- 
ing under the influence of letheon and oblivious to 
pain. At this time the nature of the anesthetic agent 
was kept a secret, the vapor of ether being disguised 
by aromatics, so as not to be recognized by anyone 
present. 

True to the highest traditions of their craft, the 
staff of the Massachusetts General Hospital now met 
and declined to make further use of a drug whose 
composition was thus kept secret. It was then that 
Morton revealed the exact nature of It as sulphuric 
ether, disguised with aromatic oils. In a report made 
by the commissioner of patents. It was set forth that : 

"For many years It had been known that the vapor 
of sulphuric ether, when freely Inhaled, would intox- 
icate as does alcohol when taken into the stomach, but 
that the former was much more temporary in its ef- 



370 ANAESTHETICS IN SURGERY 

fects. But notwithstanding the records of its effects 
to this extent, which were familiar to so many, no sur- 
geon had ever attempted to substitute it for the pal- 
liatives in common use previous to surgical opera- 
tions. That, in view of these and other considera- 
tions, a patent had been granted for the discovery." 

In 1846 an English patent was obtained. 

Morton soon began the attempt to sell office rights, 
as do the dentists of to-day, while the medical profes- 
sion was then, as ever, antagonistic to patents, hold- 
ing them to be subversive of general good. His pat- 
ent was soon opposed and then generally infringed 
upon. Litigation followed without end, and the gov- 
ernment stultified itself by refusing to recognize the 
validity of the patent issued by itself. And so, with- 
out any compensation to the discoverer, ether soon 
came into general use in this country as abroad. While 
receiving many congratulations from friends and hu- 
manitarians, Morton's success aroused the jealousy of 
some of his professional brethren, among them one 
Dr. Flagg, who commenced a terrible onslaught upon 
the new application of ether and its promoter. By 
his machinations a meeting of Boston dentists was 
called and a committee of twelve appointed to make 
a formal protest against anesthesia. This committee 
published a manifesto in the Boston Daily Adver- 
tiser, in which all sorts of untoward effects and un- 
pleasant results were attributed to the new anesthetic. 
This proclamation was spread broadcast, and did 
Morton, for the time, very much harm. Equally 



ANAESTHETICS IN SURGERY 371 

obstreperous was Dr. Westcott, connected with the 
Dental College in Baltimore. He made fun of Mor- 
ton's ''sucking bottles," as his inhalers were dubbed; 
and in various of the medical and secular journals of 
the day, bitter, often foolish and absurd, attacks 
were made. The editors of the New Orleans Med- 
ical and Surgical Journal said: 

"That the leading surgeons of Boston could be cap- 
tivated by such an invention as this, heralded to the 
world under such auspices and upon such evidences of 
utility and safety as are presented by Dr. Bigelow, 
excites our amazement. Why, mesmerism, which is 
repudiated by the savants of Boston, has done a thou- 
sand times greater wonders, and without any of the 
dangers here threatened. What shall we see next?" 

These and similar statements created a very strong 
prejudice against Morton, who, in December, 1846, 
sent to Washington, to a nephew of Dr. Warren, to 
endeavor to urge upon the government the advantages 
of employing ether in the army during the Mexican 
war, then in progress. The chief of the Bureau of 
Medicine and Surgery reported that the article might 
be of some service for use in large hosptials, but did 
not think it expedient for the department to incur 
any expense by introducing it into the general ser- 
vice; while the acting surgeon-general believed that 
the highly volatile character of the substance itself 
made it ill-adapted to the rough usage it would neces- 
sarily encounter upon the field of battle, and accord- 
ingly declined to recommend its use. 



372 ANAESTHETICS IN SURGERY 

In January of 1853, Morton demonstrated at the 
Infirmary in Washington, before a congressional com- 
mittee and others, the anesthetic effect of ether, which 
he continued through a dangerous and protracted sur- 
gical operation. This was the result of a challenge 
to compare the effects of nitrous oxide and those of 
ether, the advocates of the former not putting in an 
appearance. 

The balance of Morton's life seems to have been 
spent in continued jangles. The government, having 
repudiated its own patent, was repeatedly besought 
by memorials and through the influence of members 
of Congress to bestow some testimonial upon or make 
some money return to Morton for his discovery. Sev- 
eral times he came near a realization of his hopes in 
this respect, when the action of some of his enemies 
or the termination of a congressional session, or some 
other accident, would doom him again to disappoint- 
ment. The pages of evidence that were printed, the 
various reports issued through or by government of- 
ficers, the memorials addressed from various individ- 
uals and societies, if all printed together, would make 
a large volume; but all of these were of no avail. 
Morton spent all his means, as he spent his energies 
and time, in futile endeavor to get pecuniary recogni- 
tion of his discovery, but was doomed to disappoint- 
ment. He seemed alike a victim of unfortunate cir- 
cumstances and of treachery and animosity upon the 
part of his opponents. Especially did the fight wage 
warm between him and his friends and Jackson. Plots 



ANAESTHETICS IN SURGERY 373 

to ruin his business were repeatedly hatched and his 
life was made miserable in many ways. Mere tem- 
porary sops to wounded vanity and impaired fortune 
were the honorary degrees and the testimonials that 
came to him from various institutions of learning 
and foreign societies. In 1850 both Morton and 
Jackson received from the French Academy prizes 
valued at 2,500 francs each. Finally, Morton fell in- 
to a state of nervous prostration, suffered from anxi- 
ety and insomnia, and in a fit of temporary aberra- 
tion exposed himself in Central Park, New York, be- 
came unconscious, and was taken to St. Luke's hos- 
pital, dying just as he reached the institution, on the 
15th of July, 1868. In Mount Auburn cemetery, in 
Boston, there stands a beautiful monument to Wil- 
liam T. G. Morton, bearing this inscription: "In- 
ventor and revealer of anesthetic inhalation, before 
whom in all time surgery was agony; by whom pain 
in surgery was averted and annulled ; since whom sci- 
ence has control of pain." 

Again, in the Public garden in Boston there was 
erected, in 1867, a beautiful monument to the honor 
of the discoverer of ether, upon whom at that time 
they could not decide. Upon the front are these 
words: "To commemorate that the inhaling of eth- 
er causes insensibility to pain, first proven to the world 
at the Massachusetts General hospital, in Boston, Oc- 
tober, A. D. 1846." Upon the right side are the 
words: " 'Neither shall there be any more pain.' — 
Revelations." Upon the left: " 'This also cometh 



374 ANAESTHETICS IN SURGERY 

forth from the Lord of Hosts, which is wonderful in 
counsel and excellent in working.' — Isaiah." And upon 
the other : "In gratitude for the relief of human suf- 
fering by the inhaling of ether, a citizen of Boston 
has erected this monument, A. D. 1867. The gift 
of Thomas Lee." 

Summing up, then, the claims of our four contest- 
ants in the light of a collected history of the merits 
of each, it would appear that Wells first made public 
use of nitrous oxide gas for limited purposes, but 
failed to introduce it into general professional use. 
That Long, in an isolated rural practice, a few times 
used ether, with which he produced probably only 
partial insensibility to pain, and that he had appar- 
ently discontinued its use before learning of Morton's 
researches. That Jackson made no claim to the use 
of the agent on his own part, but simply of having 
suggested it to Morton. And, finally, that Morton 
quickly accepted the suggestion, made careful and 
scientific use thereof, but especially, and above all oth- 
er things, first demonstrated to the world at large the 
capability and the safety of this agent as an absolute, 
reliable and efficient anesthetic. So, though Morton 
permitted his cupidity to run away with finer ethical 
considerations, and attached a higher pecuniary than 
humanitarian value to sulphuric ether, he, neverthe- 
less, must be generally credited with having, to use 
the modern expression, "promoted" its introduction, 
and having shown to the world at large what an in- 
estimably valuable therapeutic agent had been added 



Jl 



ANAESTHETICS IN SURGERY 375 

to our resources for the control of pain. 

The synthetic compound known as chloroform was 
discovered independently by three different observers 
between 1830 and 1832. These were respectively 
Guthrie, of Sackett's Harbor, N. Y.; Soubeiran, of 
France, and Liebig, of Germany. The honor of in- 
troducing it to the profession as an anesthetic for 
surgical purposes is universally accorded to James Y. 
Simpson, then of Edinburgh. 

Yet claim was at one time advanced in favor of 
Surgeon- Major Furnell, of the Madras Army Med- 
ical Corps, who in the summer preceding the an- 
nouncement of Simpson's brilliant discovery experi- 
mented with what is known as chloric ether, which 
is not an ether at all, but a solution of chloroform in 
alcohol. It is said that he found that it would pro- 
duce the same results as sulphuric ether, with less 
unpleasant sensations, and suggested its use to Coote, 
a well-known London surgeon. However, such claims 
as those made in favor of Furnell are no more entitled 
to recognition than are those of Wells or Long in 
the matter of the introduction of ether to the public; 
for although individual observations were favorable 
to the compound, it never came to public notice on this 
surmise. 

Sir James Y. Simpson was born in 181 1, took 
the degree of doctor of medicine in 1832 and ad- 
vanced rapidly in his professional career until, in 
January, 1847, he was appointed one of her majes- 
ty's physicians in Scotland. Having already obtained 



376 ANAESTHETICS IN SURGERY 

a large reputation, particularly in midwifery and gyn- 
ecology, he directed his special attention toward the 
use of anesthetics in childbirth, and he had quickly 
recognized the value of sulphuric ether when intro- 
duced the previous year. He sought, however, for a 
substitute of equal power, having less disagreeable 
odor and unpleasant after effect. Upon inquiry of 
his friend Waldie, Master of Apothecaries Hall of 
Liverpool, if he knew of a substance likely to be of 
service in this direction, Waldie, familiar with the 
composition of chloric ether, suggested its active prin- 
ciple chloroform ; with which Simpson experimented, 
and, upon the 4th of November, 1847, established 
its anesthetic properties. These he first made known 
to the Medico-Chirurgical Society of Edinburgh in a 
paper read November loth. Three days later a pub- 
lic test was to have been made at the Royal Infirmary, 
but Simpson, who was to administer the chloroform, 
being unavoidably detained, the operation was done 
as heretofore without an anesthetic, and this patient 
died during the operation. You can readily see that 
had this occurred under chloroform it would have 
been ascribed to the new drug, which would then and 
there have received its death blow. As it was, the 
first public trial took place two days later and the test 
was most successful. 

One would think that such a boon as Simpson had 
here offered to the world would have been gratefully 
— not to say greedily — accepted by all. Simpson^s 
position was such as to give the new anesthetic every 



ANAESTHETICS IN SURGERY 377 

advantage that his already great reputation could at- 
tach to it, and it became at once the agent in com- 
mon use in midwifery practice. But the Scotch clergy 
of his day still possessed altogether too much of the 
old fanatic spirit of the church of the middle ages. 
One is never allowed to forget, in scanning the his- 
tory of medicine, how bitterly the church has opposed, 
until recently, every advance in our science and our 
art. It was in A. D 995, for instance, that the son of 
one of the Venetian Doges was married, in Venice, 
to a sister of the emporer of the Eastern Roman Em- 
pire. At the marriage feast the princess produced a 
silver fork and gold spoon, table novelties which ex- 
cited both amusing and angry comment. But the 
Venetian aristocracy took up with this new table fad, 
and forks and spoons as substitutes for fingers soon 
became the fashion. But the puissant church disap- 
proved most strongly even of this arrangement, for 
priests went so far as to say, "to use forks was to de- 
liberately insult the kind Providence which had given 
to man fingers on each hand." It was this same spirit 
that led the Scotch clergy to attack Simpson most 
vehemently and denounce him from their pulpits as 
one who violated the moral law, for they said: "Is 
it not ordained in Scripture, 'in sorrow shalt thou 
bring forth children?' and yet this man would intro- 
duce a substance calculated to mitigate this sorrow." 
We of to-day can scarcely imagine the rancor with 
which these attacks were made for many months. 
Finally, however, these fanatic defenders of the faith 



378 ANAESTHETICS IN SURGERY 

were routed by a quotation from the same Scriptures 
in which they claimed to find their authority; for 
Simpson, most adroitly turning upon them with their 
own weapons, called their attention to the first chap- 
ter of Genesis, in which an account of Eve's creation 
appears, and reminded them that when Eve was 
formed from the rib of Adam, the Lord "caused a 
deep sleep to fall upon" him. So weak was their 
cause that with this single quotation their opposition 
subsided and within a week or two the entire Scotch 
clergy was silenced. Sir James Simpson received 
from his own government that which was never ac- 
corded to Morton: that is, due recognition of the 
great service he had rendered humanity. He died in 
1870, and upon his bust, which stands in Westminster 
Abbey, are the following words : "To whose genius 
and beneficence the world owes the blessings derived 
from the use of chloroform for the relief of suffer- 
ing." 

It is scarcely necessary that I delay you now with 
an account of all of the other ethereal anesthetic 
agents which have from time to time been advocated 
since the memorable days to which I have devoted 
most of my time to-night. Two only are at present 
ever thought of — namely, bichlorid of methylene 
and bromide of ethyl ! — and these are used by only a 
few, though each has its advantages. It is well known 
that nearly all of the ethers have more or less of anes- 
thetic property, coupled with many dangers and dis- 
advantages. Sulphuric ether and chloroform hold 



ANAESTHETICS IN SURGERY 379 

the boards to-day as against any and all of their com- 
petitors. 

Nitrous oxide gas, as already mentioned, was 
known to and used by Wells, in Hartford. With the 
advent of ether this gas fell at once into disuse, to be 
revived some fifteen years after the death of Wells, 
mainly through the use of Dr. G. Q. Colton. Since 
this time its use has been quite universal, although 
confined for the main part to the offices of dentists. 
Its great advantages are ease of administration and 
rapidity of recovery, making it especially useful for 
their purposes, while the difficulties attendant upon 
prolonged anesthesia by it makes it less useful for the 
surgeon. 

I will spend no further time upon it nor upon the 
subject save to do justice to modern anesthesia by a 
very different method and by means of a very differ- 
ent drug, which is to-day in so common use that we 
almost forget to mention the man to whom we owe it. 
I allude to Cocaine and its discoverer. Roller. 

Cocaine is now such a universally recognized local 
anesthetic that there is the best of reason for referring 
to it here — the more so because it affords another op- 
portunity to do honor to a discoverer, who has ren- 
dered a most important service to not only our pro- 
fession, but to the world in general. 

This principal active constituent of cocoa leaves 
was discovered about i860 by Niemann, and called 
by him cocaine. It is an alkaloid which combines 
with various acids in the formation of salts. It has 



38o ANAESTHETICS IN SURGERY 

the quality of benumbing raw and mucous surfaces, 
for which purpose It was applied first in 1862 by 
Schroff, and in 1868 by Moreno. In 1880, Van Aurap 
hinted that this property might some day be utilized. 
Karl Roller logically concluded from what was known 
about it that this anesthetic property could be taken 
advantage of for work about the eye, and made a 
series of experiments upon the lower animals, by 
which he established its efficiency and made a brilliant 
discovery. He reported his experiments to the Con- 
gress of German Oculists, at Heidelberg, In 1884. 
News of this was transmitted with great rapidity, and 
within a few weeks the substance was used all over 
the world. Its use spread rapidly to other branches 
of surgery, and cocaine local anesthesia became quick- 
ly an accomplished fact. More time was required to 
point out its disagreeable possibilities, its toxic prop- 
erties and the like, but It now has an assured and most 
Important place among anesthetic agents, and has 
been of the greatest use to probably 10 per cent, of 
the civilized world. To Roller Is entirely due the 
credit of establishing Its remarkable properties. 



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